Hide Hide Yourself for Now
by R Coots
Summary: Riddick has no intention of remaining Lord Marshal. In a search across the galaxy for a place to bury his dead and shake the last of the Necros, he stops to investigate a drifting ship of unknown origin and finds himself with a new kind of crazy on his hands. M for language, imagery, and lemons. Riverick. Read and review and I shall love you!
1. Chapter 1

Hide, Hide Yourself for Now

Ch. 1

_We caught you plotting murder  
And now the tide is turning  
We'll light our souls, heal our bones  
Upon your empire burning_

"_Spy Hunter", Project 86_

It took the better part of a year and enough blood to paint the throne room red ten times over before Riddick had the Necromongers where he wanted them. To say he'd lost the majority of the command ranks would be claiming responsibility for them, and that was a thing he'd never asked for. Instead, he chose to look at is as culling. Those stupid enough to challenge him, thinking that just because he didn't have two fucking scars on either side of his neck he wasn't fit to rule them, those were the first to die. Their mistake in thinking that he wouldn't have been able to kill Zhylaw if Vaako hadn't made his play led them to believe that they could take him. None of what they thought mattered. He cut down every challenger who came forward and walked over their bodies as he went about the business of taking control. Of sinking deeper into the pit and aiming for the bear trap at the bottom. Because that's what the whole fucking mess was. A new sort of prison. One he'd get out of eventually.

But first…

He'd made his final point just before he ordered the departure of the Armada from the known sectors of the Arm. Preparations had been underway, he'd gotten Imam's woman and her daughter packed off in a scout vessel with a contingent of guards and a pile of valuables to start them off in a new life on the closest bit of true civilization he could manage. The guards would drop her off safely on threat of their deaths coming quicker than they wanted and then catch up with the giant warbeast that was the Armada as it made its slow way across space. It was the last living tie he needed to cut before he took his dead and those who wished to be dead and dropped them off the edge of the known Universe. Preferably without him, because there was no way in Hell he'd walk quietly to whatever kind of death it was that let something like his predecessor come back.

No. Way. In. Hell.

So he'd been satisfied that things were going according to the sketch of a plan that he'd put together, headed for his quarters and the comfort of their darkness, when someone slithered up behind him and tried to put a shiv in his ribs. It wasn't really a shiv. Too finely crafted for that, but he didn't care enough to call it a knife. And the way it was being used made it a shiv anyways. He hadn't been paying a lot of attention. He saw his attacker nearly every day, smelled her everywhere. She'd tried to go through his quarters, as if he had anything he cared about in there anyways. So far she'd stuck to trying to get her husband to make some sort of assassination attempt, but something must have driven her over the edge this time. If there ever had been an edge for this crazy bitch in the first place. He wondered sometimes if she hadn't _thrown_ herself at the Necros when they arrived on her world and begged for the power they could give her.

At that moment though, none of it mattered. None of it even occurred to him. He did what he always did, let the animal take over and keep him from getting more than a scrape along the rib bones as he twisted and backhanded her all in one motion. He caught her as she spun, wrapped one arm around her torso and the other hand around her jaw, and gave a sharp twist, using the pent up momentum and speed of both their attacks to snap her neck. That's when it registered with his thinking mind, who _exactly_ it was that had tried to fuck with him. Snarling, he'd drug the body behind him as he headed for her quarters, well aware of the fact that every Necro in eyesight was watching. Blood was starting to trickle down his side, but he was wearing black, and it was more likely to pool in his boot than leave trace on the floor. Vaako had been in his quarters, and Riddick hadn't really given a damn what he was doing. It had been what was about to happen that was mattered. He'd dropped his burden in the center of the first room, leathery dress puddling around her and the hair he'd been dragging her by splayed over the floor in a wild tangle of undone braids. And then he'd waited, watching the expressions chasing themselves over his last remaining Commander's face, smelling the corresponding scents. Shock, anger, and finally resignation each had their turn. After a long moment, the man had straightened, fist hitting his chest and barking "Loyalty to Underverse come," in a semi-strangled voice. Riddick had simply nodded and left. Now that he had the absolute loyalty of the one man who could have posed a real threat, his sketchy plan for escape had crystalized a little further. It had always been easier when it was just him in the relatively known quantity of a slam. Funny how he almost missed those days.

Now here he was, drifting in space and still not free. He had a pack of Necromonger dogs that Vaako had saddled him with before he'd agree to take the rest of the Armada on towards the Threshold and Kyra's body in cryo along for the ride. So far he hadn't found a planet that seemed right to set her down on. This part of the Arm was full of planets that had been capable of sustaining life. Until the Necros had come through. Now they were mainly wastelands. Or they had been. Furya had been the last charted planet in the quadrant he'd left just over a year ago, and everything since then had been new and unknown. A few planets had had water and breathable air. They'd stopped, if only to refresh the oxygen scrubbers and supplies. Necro ships, even the smaller Destroyers like the one he'd been saddled with, could travel through space nearly indefinitely so long as they could keep water and 02 losses to an absolute minimum, but restocking was always wise. He didn't intend to stop for good until he'd done two things. First, find a place to set Kyra down, a place where the planet itself didn't try to kill anything that set foot on it. He had no idea who she'd been or where she'd come from before boarding the Hunter-Gatzner all those years ago, but he knew twelve year old girls didn't travel alone and disguised as boys just for the hell of it. She may not even deserve peace, but he wasn't leaving her body with the Necros and he wasn't just going to dump her again.

Secondly, he needed to get rid of these fucking guards. Guards. For him! It was insulting and funny as hell all at the same time. He wasn't sure if Vaako had told them to try to drag him back if it looked like he was skipping out or if the man was actually worried that he'd land on some other planet full of monsters and need the cannon fodder to cover his ass. Either way, it had been the first time the Commander had openly argued with him since his wife's body had been dropped in the middle of their quarters. He'd almost killed the man, but he needed someone to keep the Armada in check as they traveled, keep them from destroying any more planets on their way through occupied space. But Vaako had sworn _absolute_ loyalty, and had taken every opportunity to prove it. So, growling, Riddick had accepted the Destroyer and its crew along with the company of guards. Maybe he'd just blow the thing up once he'd set Kyra down. He hadn't figured that part out yet.

A hissing crackle at his elbow warned him to hit the volume on the comm just before the navigator's scratchy voice deafened him in the echoing room. "Lord Marshall Sir, there's something you should see."

Riddick growled and thumbed the toggle. "Coming." Giving the fair skin and dark hair under the glass one last look, the big man turned and left the hold, lowering his goggles as he went. These Necros might keep things dim in the halls and personal spaces, but the bridge was always lit up like Helion and it was too dangerous to have them lower the lights just so he could see. Plus, the goggles made them nervous.

He was still smirking to himself when he entered the bridge and leaned over the navigator's shoulder. The man's scent bloomed in his nose, apprehension and worry like someone dripping a citrus fruit into his nasal cavities. He lifted a lip in a silent snarl before backing off, just a bit. Oddly, the scent didn't change like it usually did after he'd made his dominance play. Frowning, he leaned forward again, and the navigator shifted just enough to give a clearer view of the screen. "What's that," Riddick growled, reaching forward and homing in on the floating dot in the center. It wasn't an asteroid, or meteors. For a moment his mind flashed to a ship shaking and rattling as bits of comet debris punched through the hull and into the cryo boxes around him. He dismissed it immediately. No comets around. No planets nearby to land and get eaten on. He tried to zoom again, but the visual sensors were at their limits. Switching over, he ran signals, heat, and finally infrared scanners. Their range varied, but it was the external comms that finally netted results. Three long staticky beeps, three short, and three long. A burst of some unintelligible language, and then the beeps again. Frowning, he leaned back to study the screen. The distress code meant a ship, which meant humans of some sort or another. A year's travel past the known occupied areas of space and they'd found a ship in distress. What were the odds?

Curiosity had always gotten him in more trouble than he could keep track of and he had a feeling that it was going to be his downfall eventually, but he'd never been one to overlook opportunities to escape, and half the time it was his curiosity that had helped him find those openings and weaknesses in the walls around him. Right now he had the feeling that he was looking at his way out and away from these necrophiliac freaks. Growling to himself in satisfaction, he clapped a hand on the navigator's shoulder. The man rocked, his fear scent bloomed again, and then steadied. "Let's go check it out," the Lord Marshall rumbled.

Necromongers, Riddick had discovered, were not above hijacking converts straight out of space flight. The Destroyer class ships especially had been built for such and not for the first time he wondered at Vaako's choice of ship to send his Lord Marshall off into the deeps. It couldn't take other vessels on board, unless they were about the size of the planet hoppers mercs tended to favor, but it had an adaptive seal that could lock on to pretty much anything from a trade frigate to a large military cruiser. Guns mounted in a double line forward to aft ensured the cooperation of enemy vessels, knocked them off course and their passengers out of cryo and into a state of fear that nine times out of ten all but guaranteed fresh batches of converts willing to throw themselves at any hope of escape from their stranded vessels. At the time of departure, Riddick had appreciated the guns, scorned the need for the seals, and completely trashed the Conversion chambers. He wasn't on a recruitment hunt and he'd made his point abundantly clear to the one cleric who'd managed to bluster his way on board. The man had been left back on a planet with little soil, much salt water, and freakishly erratic tides. If he was still alive it was only by heading as far inland as he could manage and praying for fresh water somewhere. It was more than others had gotten.

Now the big man found himself grateful for the seals, as the ship they were approaching looked nothing like any he'd ever seen. Sleek lines and flaring wings reminded him of some of the deep sea flyer fish he'd seen pictures of here and there. Squared off slightly where the tail should have been, a hatch was obvious; and it was to the rim around it that the seal of the Destroyer was adapting itself, plates of dark metal sliding and grinding before the rubberized sheath slipped out and molded itself to the framework provided. Standing there, twenty Necros at his back, Riddick had a realization. There was a keypad set into the hatch, covered in numbers he recognized and characters he didn't. Patterns of sharp lines mocked him as he growled under his breath and tried to think. A large button next to a tiny blinking light seemed as good a risk as any and he stabbed at it with one finger, already bracing himself for an explosion. Instead something beeped, a feminine voice spoke to him in that strange language again, and the doors of the unknown vessel hissed open, leaving Riddick and his men staring into a small cargo bay turned to hell.

The rusty tang of dried blood assaulted his nose, and he could tell that at some point someone had been gutted. He didn't take off his goggles, the bright emergency lights that flashed around the edges of the bay made the dark/light ratio too erratic for his unshielded vision. Pools and splashes of darker color painted the room in erratic loops and squiggles. In the center of the floor was a larger puddle, and he looked up to see the origin. Face a rictus of pain around the spear protruding from her mouth, pale skin hanging in patches and flaps around her abdomen and splayed legs, the woman hung, supported by not only the spear that had been rammed through her from nethers to nose but by the chains through her ankles as well. A man dangled from each like some obscene sort of jewelry, one skewered through the stomach and the other looking like he'd been gaffed in the ass. Dried blood coated them all, and only extreme self-control kept Riddick from holding his nose at the stench. He'd smelled worse, but that was usually in the slam, and not along with a formerly living version of some of the statues that decorated Necropolis. Behind him he could hear the Necros shifting, and he dredged up a smirk. They might have bad taste in art, but when it came to actual fighting they killed and moved on, not leaven even their enemies to linger long at Death's door. They'd wanted as many left alive and intact as they could manage, to fatten the ranks, but had no use for those dead or dying. A line drifted through his head, remember from some long ago book in the long ago Ranger training. Something about Davy Jones and a ship crewed by the dead. It fit the Necros to a T.

Figuring he'd let his men stew long enough, a growled and turned. "Search the ship. Supplies, signs of life." He snagged the mousy navigator by the elbow as the warriors moved around him. "Origin. Where did it come from?" The man nodded and stepped around him, jaw set and determinedly _not_ looking at the gruesome chandelier. Riddick followed more slowly, examining as he went. A weight bench in one corner and stacks of shipping crates in another. A locker proved full of weapons, mainly unfamiliar guns. A small box in the corner held clear bullets full of a translucent liquid. Frowning, he kept one of bullets and set the box down before starting to sort through the guns, hunting for the one that looked like it would take the ammo. An empty rack answered his question, but before he could go any further in his investigation the comm on his wrist beeped. "Lord Marshall Sir," came the voice of the navigator. "I believe I have found some answers. The bridge is directly forward of the cargo bay Sir." Something in the man's voice quivered and Riddick snarled silently to himself. More fear smell on top of old blood and ruptured bowels. Just what he needed.

The bridge was tiny; barely room enough for one, and no copilot chair in sight. The parts of the wall that weren't windows were covered in panels and banks of dimly lit screens. Over those was a man, staked by hands and feet, with dried intestines hanging out of his abdomen like a particularly grisly garland. Riddick stepped around the mess on the floor and slipped in next to the pilot's seat, where the navigator was working furiously. "Well," he rumbled, crossing his arms.

The man looked up, and then keyed up the screen. "Sir, it appears that the vessel is human in origin. Most likely from the first people of the Exodus from Earth." His lip lifted in silent scorn for a people who fled their home rather than taking their rightful deaths, but in the next moment his face was smooth again. "I am unclear as to the second language, but the first appears to be a form of-"

"Common," Riddick interrupted, and leaned over for a closer look. Sure enough, mixed in among the sharp lines and squared off characters were a few familiar words. Frowning, he looked at the navigator. "Hound?"

"It appears to be the name of the ship my lord. From what I can tell," a few more buttons and a dial turned. "This was a mercenary vessel carrying cargo. The captain's log cuts off abruptly. I cannot read the rest of it, but the last word is in Common." The man turned to look at his leader. "Reavers."

Riddick frowned and sat back, eyeing the man who'd been crucified to the wall and ceiling. That explained the guns. And probably the strange bullet too. Tranq guns. The missing space in the gun locker had been about big enough for something long range. So why had it been missing? There wasn't enough space on this boat to turn around properly, much less need a long range gun. What could they be carrying that they thought they still needed to keep it under, even in cryo?

That brought another realization. A quick glance around the cabin confirmed it. No cuffs. No tubes. No vials of cryo drugs. Frowning, he turned to the Necro in the pilot's chair. "Have they found the cryo equipment yet?"

That startled the man. He jerked around, seeing for the first time what had already been noticed. Riddick curled a lip. Necros. Fools. They didn't travel in cryo. Their vessels were too slow, the grav drives on them didn't play the same havoc on the body that supra light travel did. Even if it did, they'd probably enjoy it. Either way, the rest of the known universe _did_ use cryo for space travel. Why didn't this ship? Growling, Riddick pushed past the man and started his own search, poking is nose in hatches and down the short halls. The boat smelled lived in. There was a galley, bunks, even a head that proved they were up and around enough to want and take showers, short as they may be with the limited water possible on this thing. All the smells were old, stale, and covered over with the continuous stench of old blood, but he couldn't seem to find any sign of cryo during travel.

It was a whiff of antiseptic that proved him wrong. His men had obviously missed the spot, searching for the obvious and not thinking to look for cubby holes and hiding places. He'd just wandered out of the tiny infirmary and back out into the equally tiny cargo bay when the floor thunked hollowly under him and the movement of the grate stirred the air enough for him to smell it. And hear it. Old sweat, the antiseptic, drugs of some sort. And a faint heartbeat. He turned, just to make sure it wasn't the infirmary fooling his senses, but the room was just as stale and copper tasting as the rest of the boat. A few steps got him off the section of decking that had rocked and he crouched for closer inspection. He could hear his men coming up behind him and growled to himself. Metal boots on metal decking were not a good combination for quiet. Waving them to a stop, he bent over and sniffed. The scent was stronger down here, and he could see tiny divots along the edge of the metal plate. His fingers were too big, so he unsheathed one of his big curved shivs from his belt and went to work. One of the more enterprising of his men caught on and knelt to work on the opposing side of the plate with his own blade. Between the two of them they got it loosened enough for fingers to slip under. Riddick met the man's eyes with his goggles and nodded. As one they lifted. The plate caught on some hidden hooks and brought them up short. The Necro stumbled, but Riddick merely snarled and gave a wrench, snapping the restraints as he did so. The solder lurched forward but caught his end and together they set the plate aside. The smell hit him like a slap in the face and he wondered briefly if there'd been some sort of hermetic seal on the hidden compartment, damaged during the struggle with whatever had attacked this ship. Frowning, he stared down into the hole, peeling back his goggles for a better look.

It was a box. Or a coffin. It could have been either. But the blinking lights on one corner of its surface and the heartbeat he could hear even louder now argued against the coffin theory. Was this their cryo then? It was probably their cargo, considering the care they'd taken to hide it from a casual observer. Were they mercs or were they smugglers? Slavers? Riddick snorted to himself and shrugged. It didn't really matter one way or the other. Now he had someone to answer his questions. Provided they could wake whoever-the-fuck-it-was up. Stepping back, he gestured at his men. "Get it out," he growled. "And be careful."

"Sir," asked the Necro who'd helped him get the decking up. Riddick snarled at him as he pulled his goggles down and moved out of the way, further into the cargo bay. The man didn't argue further. A fist to his chest in salute and he turned back to the hole and its contents as the warriors tried to figure out how to get the box out. Riddick snorted and went back to the weapons locker, leaving half his attention to his men while the other half started looking for hidden catches and levers. Had to be something else hidden in here if the guns were so easy to get to.

He'd emptied the thing of guns and lifted the racks by the time the men got the box out. He was in the middle of pulling the back panel from the locker, revealing an impressive set of shivs and was that a _sword_, when the thud and scrape of the box on the floor behind him caught his attention. Frowning, he drifted back over to the group, which was now made up of his entire contingent, the others having come back to report and gotten pulled into the effort to free the box and its mysterious contents instead. Something about the scent had changed, but it was hard to pin down between the smell of the bay and the Necros. Growling an order, he got the men to stand still while he listened. Sure enough, the heartbeat was louder. Still slow, but steadily rising. He cocked his head and leaned over the box, resting his hands on either side of the display readout as he tried to pin the scent down as well. It wasn't acrid or acid like fear, or burning like anger. Like cool water, it threaded through the drugs, antiseptic, mint, and sweat. If he'd had to take a guess, he'd almost say it was anticipation, but without a baseline read on whoever it was, he couldn't say for sure. One way to find out.

Stepping back he nodded at his men. "Open it."

Four of them stepped forward, ceremonial blades ready to dig into the seams and pry, but before they could complete the action, the navigator stepped out of the hall he'd been lurking in and came into the light. "My Lord, if I may?"

Riddick turned and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

The slim man held up what looked to be a data pad in one hand, shining with words both familiar and unfamiliar. "I believe this may work better." That said, he glanced at the pad, centered it over the display on the box, and slid it into place with a soft click. In his other hand he held…a hand. Riddick snorted as the navigator pressed the hand of the dead man who must have captained the ship to the data pad. It beeped, blinked, and a tinny voice said "Palm print accepted. Cryo disengaging in three…two…"

With a click and a hiss the seal let loose and the top half of the box lifted a few milimeters. The navigator stepped back to let the warriors closer and soon the lid had been removed and set aside. Riddick shoved his way into the mass of armored men, all of whom seemed to have forgotten the threat at their backs in their interest in what lay in front of them. He growled and that seemed to shock the remaining Necros into remembering he was there, because they parted for him. Still rumbling, he stared down into the box, inhaling deeply and trying to figure out the meaning of the scent of cool water.

He didn't have long to wait. Just as he reached the foot of the box its occupant's eyes popped open. Huge and dark in a pale face and surrounded by straggling dark hair, the girl took less than half a second to scan the armored bodies around her before she _moved_. Two men were down, eye sockets bleeding, before any of the Necros could register the fact that she was attacking. Two more fell, throats bubbling, before the rest could reach for the weapons. If it hadn't been for the fact that these men had put themselves under his protection, made him alpha of their screwed up little pack, Riddick would have just sat back and watched as the girl danced her way through the pile. Eight were down by the time he'd bulled his way into the center of the fight. Two more went down as he kicked one end of the cryo box out of his way. She had a blade strapped to her wrist somehow, and had driven it back over her shoulder into the eye socket of the soldier trying to get her under control while she took his gun hand and used the weapon on another. The first went down with a gurgling cry, the second crumpled more quietly.

And then Riddick was there, fist swinging. Straight through empty air. She'd ducked, rolled under his arm, and popped up behind him. He turned, trying to catch her as she came up and she jumped again, rolling backwards over his shoulder and flying feet first at another of his men. She followed him down, knees wrapped around his neck even as she continued the roll. Riddick heard the man's neck snap just before she released her hold, tumbling backwards into a crouch. But she'd cornered herself with that last move. She'd landed in the passageway leading to the bridge, and Riddick could tell from the lack of glowing light in that direction that the Navigator had closed the hatch on the room before coming down to the cargo bay. Behind him he could hear muffled curses and guns being drawn. Growling, he waved at them. Last thing they needed was guns in a tight space.

The girl was inching back, hands at the ready and her eyes. For every step he took forward, she took one back. The emergency lights flashed and spun overhead, making it harder to judge distance, but his nose was working fine. The scent of cool water was still there, overlaid with something like sour fruit and a bit of charcoal to leaven the mix. The drugs burning out of her system maybe. He thought briefly of the missing tranq gun, wishing he'd found it so he didn't have to risk a shiv in the gut just to get close to this girl. He'd thought Kyra was wild, but this girl put a whole new meaning to the phrase 'trapped animal'.

"She will not sleep again!" The first words out of her mouth came in a high pitched shriek as she threw herself forward, shiv in hand and the last lingering bits of sanity completely gone from her eyes as she attacked with none of the grace she'd displayed not two minutes past. The sour fruit smell hit him like a hammer, along with the citrus of pure terror, but he managed to reach out and catch her wrist. A twist and a yank and he had the other one as well. The girl shrieked again, something in that unknown language, and bit at his hand. Feet flailed and he almost found himself thanking _someone_ for the invention of crotch guards as one of her heels impacted with the lightweight armor he'd remembered to put on for once. Growling, he got one of her legs pinned between his knee and the wall. She was snarling and shrieking and his ears were starting to ring. With one final effort he brought his fist around to her temple. A last gurgling cry and she was, finally, silent.

**Author's Note**: They're not mine! I wish they were. If they were, this wouldn't just be fanfic, this would be made into a real movie. Real. Movie. Or at least some variation of this. As it is, Firefly/Serenity is Whedon's and Riddick's universe (and the man) are property of Tuohy. Neither of which is me.

This is a re-edited chapter. I did a crap job the first time around. In another couple of weeks I'll probably look at it and cringe again at other stuff I missed. I wanted to say a couple things, things I'll mention in upcoming author's notes. Riddick is a grumpy bear, and far more likely to hit first and ask questions later at this point in his life than he was during the movies. But if a girl popped out of a box and tried to kill you, would you really stop to ask questions? The ship, by the way, is NOT_ Serenity_. Read the description carefully, and the navigator's conversation with Riddick in the bridge. We won't be seeing _Serenity _for a long time. Chapters wise that is. I promise though, the crew and the ship will show up eventually, but the needs of the story outweigh the possible hijinks I could get up to otherwise.

That said, please review! Reviews are awesome. They are lifeblood. They prove that someone out there has actually read this. They lift my heart, they…you get the idea. Till later then.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 2

_It is right it should be so;_

_Man was made for Joy & Woe;_

_And when this we rightly know_

_Thro' the World we safely go._

_Joy & Woe are woven fine,_

_A Clothing for the Soul divine_

Auguries of Innocence, William Black

It was the pain that woke her, dragging her up from the depths of unconsciousness. She hadn't been asleep. She knew that much. Sleep brought rest. And peace. Well, it did for others. For her there was little difference between sleep and unconsciousness, except for the dreamings she picked up around her. Something burned in her veins now, and it wasn't the drugs that made her sleep. After a moment's consideration she decided on exhaustion. All that time with her eyes closed and her heartbeat slowed to sleep speed and she was still tired. Odd that.

Not nearly so odd as the minds around her. It was her last coherent thought before the pain they were screaming of hit her brain and she jolted forward, trying to give voice to other's agony. She was yanked back, not by human hands, but by restraints. Cold. Impersonal. Unthinking. Reeking of the pain of who knew how many people. She shrieked again and tried to flail, but there wasn't any slack at her wrists and her feet had been tied down as well. Pain, needles, men drowning in blood. Eyes open or shut, she couldn't unsee what she was seeing, and she wailed as she reached for her Mother, Captain Daddy, Simon. Nothing. Nothing but pain behind walls.

And curiosity.

That's when she heard it. Breathing. Low. Deep. A heat source near her feet and rumbling sigh as metal slid over metal. Turning her head she realized that her eyes were open, but her surroundings were dark. Not completely. Here and there a ghostly light burned and blinked, but for the purposes of estimation, it might as well have been pitch black. Panting, she tried to get a grip on her mind. It was so hard without an amygdala! The drugs were blurring her thoughts, dragging forth visions of snarling men and needles cold. She whimpered and shook her head, trying to banish the past and focus on the _now. _ Amusement, curiosity, and…worry? They rolled off of whoever was seated near her feet, even as she heard the slide of metal on metal again. She latched onto the mind, wrapping herself around it in the hope that the lack of pain there would block the rest of the feelings she was getting in this place.

Then she caught the reason he wasn't in pain and threw herself out, screaming and doing her best to claw her way backwards in her bed. A man walked among those two steps away from being Reavers! He didn't fear what they almost were. He commanded them!

The amusement faded into irritation and a giant hand clamped over her mouth. "You want to be quiet little girl?" A deep voice like chocolate and coffee washed over her and almost, almost she let it calm her. But did he know what he had? What he courted? Panting through her nose, she wrinkled her lips and lunged. She felt bone under skin before the man snarled and managed to yank his hand away. Movement in the air around her gave warning and she lurched, just barely missing the blow that would have sent her back into sleep. She couldn't duck the other hand though, the one with the blade that rested, cold and sharp, against her neck. "Shut up, damn you," he growled.

She didn't quite freeze, didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but she did stop thrashing. That seemed to satisfy the man, because the blade left her neck. What came next did an even better job of immobilizing her than the knife ever would have. A pair of silvery eyes, gleaming in the residual light around them, came into view. She blinked, stunned, and stilled. She could feel her mind racing, but didn't bother to catch up, mesmerized as she was by that gaze. The owner tilted his head and she could hear him take a deep breath. Inches away now, she could make out a broad nose and full lips. Something on his brow, wrapped around his head. A skim of his mind revealed them to be goggles. A finger dipped slightly deeper in the calm waters told her that she'd need bright lights to incapacitate him with the goggles off. Considerable force would be required otherwise, but she couldn't find it in her to care. Until his nose came to close to her neck that is. Then she turned and snapped at his ear, snarling under her breath. She may be tied down but that did _not_ make her weak or defenseless and if he planned on following through with the things in his mind she'd show him exactly how much a cup around his genitalia would _not_ protect him.

Snarling himself, the man jerked back and she tensed, waiting for intent to become action. But he lowered his fist and leaned back, studying her with those eyes. She kept her gaze locked on his, clinging to the one voice in this place not full of pain and crying and need. Finally he chuckled and tilted his head. "Vicious little thing aren't you."

She snorted "Like calls to like. Blades come out like claws unsheathed in anger and fear." She tilted her head opposite his. "Reflexes good. Breathing even. Heart rate…" she paused. "Slightly elevated."

The eyes blinked and he rumbled deep in his chest. Briefly she toyed with the idea of catching that sound and sleeping with it under her ear. It was almost better than the sound of Mother's engine through the hull. Mother. Where was she now? Where was family? Had they gotten away safely? She'd felt Jayne hidden behind a stack of crates, gun in hand, just before she'd gone under. Had he and Captain Daddy gotten them away safely?

"Hey," a warm hand was tapping her on the shoulder. "I said, you got a name?"

He was frowning at her. She must have slipped away. Shaking her head to clear it, she sighed. "The water drips and flows and builds and flows again. Gathers and gathers until it over runs its bounds and gravity pulls pulls pulls from the heights of elevation to the marshes of the delta, till it flows to the sea and evaporates. Condensation, cold air. Rain. Fall fall fall to the ground to start the journey again." She blinked up at him. "The girl has given her name. What is his?"

There was the knife again. The man had the temper of a hungry wolf. But the claws of a tiger. What sort of animal was he really? She tried to turn her head to follow him as he moved, but the knife slid along her neck and she felt the warmth of blood as it trickled. Resigned, she stopped moving and waited. He would speak soon enough; tell her what she'd already learned from his mind. And she liked to wait for the voice. It fell over her like a warm blanket and chased away the cold in her head. Finally he sighed and the knife was removed. "Cool one aren't ya?"

She shrugged, not caring if he could see her or not. "Knives like claws, flash in the dark. Honest edge, honest blood. Not needles and lies. If you had come with needles and lies she would have driven them back into your brain. She can do that you know." And she grinned up at him. "Kill you with her brain."

"Kill me with your rambling maybe," he muttered, and she heard the blade slide back into its sheath. "So, crazy girl. Name for a name is it?"

"She has given you hers," she replied primly and stared at one of the blinking lights. It was synced with her heart rate. Which, like his, was slowing down. Good.

"That's a long ass name."

She giggled. "River does not take so long to say. Not as long as Richard B. Riddick. Murder, escaped convict."

Some distant part of her mind screamed at her, telling her that poking a wolf with a stick was just as stupid as diving headlong into a pile of Reavers, but she told it to shut up, even as his full weight landed on fists to either side of her head. She'd killed the Reavers hadn't she? The voice just gibbered, saying that they hadn't been in their right minds and this man. This animal. He was mostly in his. Except when enraged apparently.

"How do you know my name?" He was roaring, veins popping out and beautiful eyes narrowed in a glare. She heard running footsteps in the corridor as one of the Painwalkers ran to check on his lord and master. She whimpered, trying to curl up and away from the agony the unknown man was bringing with him. But the combination of restraints at wrist and ankle along with the bulk of the roaring Lord Marshal made it an impossibility and she cried out, clutching at her head and only succeeding in catching Riddick in the jaw. He roared again and swung and blessed silence claimed her.

When she came to again the room was lit, albeit dimly, and she could make out the various instruments and displays around her. Wherever she was, IVs were apparently still in use, because there was one taped to her arm. How had she not pulled it out with her thrashing? A heart monitor blinked nearby and she stared at it, willing herself to breath slower, calm down, slow the heart rate. She could still feel the Painwalkers around her and the man was a dim presence in the back of her mind, angry but calm at the same time. She hadn't meant to upset him, but the drugs were still making her muzzy and her grip on reality was slipping. Never had she thought she'd wish for the screams of the dead as company, instead of those who might as well be.

One of them was coming, his mind wrapped up in things to be done, foremost was check on her. He blinked to see her sitting up and staring at him when he stuck his head around the door. She endeavored to give him a smile, focusing on the mundane in his mind and not the keen of pain underneath. Apparently her smile was either not that good, or their faces were frozen in place when they received their marks. He merely blinked at her again, and then entered the room. She watched him carefully as he made his rounds, checking displays and fidgeting with buttons. It was only when he reached for the dial on the IV drip that she spoke. "No more drugs please. Judgment is affected. Control is lost." She tilted her head and tried to look helpless. "Water though? Her throat is dry."

The man blinked again, but didn't answer. Instead he toggled what must have been an intercom and spoke. "Lord Marshal Sir. The girl is awake again." The reply was a growl, full of static but clear enough to get the point across. She could go fuck herself.

River giggled at the look on the Painwalker's face. Clearly, being stuck in a room for who knew how long with a girl who'd downed eight men in less time than it took to draw a full breath was not on his list of good ideas. River wiggled her wrists in their restraints and eyed them speculatively. There was a pin dangling in the mass of hair over her shoulder. If she could get it out of her hair and into her mouth, she could get free. Catching the nervousness being thrown off by the man, she sighed and sat back. Maybe later.

"Sir," she tried again. "The girl is thirsty. Do your people not permit prisoners even water in the desert?"

She nearly giggled again when he jerked around to face her. This could be fun at least, while she waited.

She didn't get her water, and in the end, it was probably all for the best. Water would have meant bedpans, catheters, or being unchained long enough to visit a head. Only one of those options was preferable to her, but she probably would have just ended up chained hand to foot and shuffling, movement restricted beyond bearing. Better to not need to put herself in any of those positions. The IV had turned out to be full of nutrients and fluids anyways, not sedatives. How long had she been asleep? Her head hurt and she could feel bruises blooming where she'd been knocked out. The tranq bullet had long ago dissolved in her system and the wound closed over. It hadn't had much penetrating power. It wasn't designed for killing. But it had still hurt her and her shoulder had bled sluggishly, pooling around her in the cryo box until the stench was noticeable even to the mercs who'd caught her. They'd cleaned her up then, and the box. Their mistake. She'd woken up. Broken the gun even as the nervous one shot her again. In the leg. Which was mostly healed now. How long _had_ she been out that the second bullet hole only showed traces of the clear casing? She could feel the drugs the shell had been impregnated with still burning through her system, clouding her mind and making her words go all sideways.

Time slipped and curled around her, wrapping her in confusion. The Painwalker medic came and went, and she tried to doze. People talked around her room, but she ignored them, sinking as deep into meditation as she could, closing door after door in her mind as she dropped into the core and tried to rebuild herself from the inside out. She'd almost succeeded too, when she caught a stray thought from one of the bridge crew and panic slammed through her like a storm, catching all reason and taking it far far away.

Riddick had been taking reports from his crew when it happened. One second his men were telling him that the bodies of the foreign vessel's crew had been disposed of and most of the blood cleaned up and when did they want to disengage and continue sir? The next moment a high pitched shriek rang through the halls, grating on his ears and snapping all his senses into focus. Riddick was moving before he'd registered that there was only one person on board who could shriek like that. And had it been his ears or his head that heard her? His skull was certainly ringing like someone had been yelling in it.

Shoving speculation aside, he ran for the infirmary, turning the corner just in time to see the medic stagger out and collapse with a muffled cry. He snorted. Apparently they could still feel broken bones. Huffing out a growl, he waved the men around him to a stop and listened. There. Faintly. The _slap slap_ of bare feet. How had she gotten free?

No matter. She'd go for familiar ground, and the only place that had that was back on the unfamiliar ship. He took off, using every short cut he could think of through the Destroyer, but the halls were laid out with mathematical precision and it would take too much time to cut through engineering, trip over every damn fool in there, and make it out the other side. He dodged a trail of bodies that littered the floor as he ran, most just gasping, a couple nursing broken noses, and the last two guards gurgling out their last breath. If he hadn't been so fucking pissed her would have stopped to admire the girl's work. Batshit she may be, but she was also absolutely lethal in a way not even Kyra had managed. Kyra had worked for her kills. This girl seemed to breathe death.

It was beautiful.

She was scrambling up a ladder when he rounded the last corner, space suit and helmet on. He lunged for her and caught the rungs instead as she jumped the last few feet and slammed her small fist into a button set in the ceiling. A warning hiss and a hatch popped open. She eeled her way up and into the cavity it revealed, calling through her suit's mike. "About to lose pressure. Hold on. Oxygen levels about to drop."

Riddick had a moment to latch himself around the ladder before she opened what was apparently an external hatch. Air rushed past him, dragging at his clothes and he ducked when a nearby wrench flew past his head. Snarling, he heaved himself up and caught the internal hatch, shoving it closed by main strength just as a pack of Necros burst into the hold. Growling more to himself than to them, he ignored the weapons they'd trained on the hatch and headed for the locker the girl had left open. There was another suit in there, and it didn't look all that hard to put on. One of the men moved forward, holstering his gun as he did so "Sire, are you sure?" He trailed off at the look Riddick threw him. Even through the goggles, his men knew that look. The man backed off.

Less than a minute later the big man was suited up and out the hatch. He shut the internal one carefully, but let the external one stay open. Crazy girl was probably the only one with an idea of how to get back in and he was _not_ crawling back to the Destroyer to beg them to open the doors again.

A giggle echoed through the speaker in his helmet and he growled, turning. He didn't see the girl floating anywhere in space, so she hadn't made a suicide jump. A quick scan of the visible portions of his own ship didn't show anything either. That fucking giggle again. "Down here," she said. "Follow the line."

Something moved against his leg and he looked down to see a length of spacer's line, clipped to a ring set into the outside of the hatch. Slowly, carefully, he followed it around to the belly of the ship, past the engines and towards the place where the hulls of their respective ships met. She was clinging; crouched upside down, examining a nest of tubes and wires that did _not_ look like it belonged where it was. She turned her head to look at him, and then gestured at the mess. "They sit in their webs, all spun tight, and wait wait wait for the fly to land. Looks safe it says. Looks sad, with bait cut up and left in the trap." She tilted her head back to the pile and leaned over, pushing at them until she'd uncovered something. Waving him over, she pointed. Warily, keeping a good arm's length from her, Riddick moved over and leaned in. It looked innocuous enough. A little black box, with what was probably a red light blinking on it.

"Green." Riddick jerked his head up to look at the girl, but she wasn't paying any attention to him. She was poking at the wires again, very gently. "Spider feels the web tremble. Would come to check on what it caught." Now she looked at him again. "But if the fly is so foolish as to try and pull away, it will die anyways. Their hatred for those sane and living knows no bounds. They kill and eat the living, but are just as satisfied with making you dead or crippled."

Something cold crawled its way down his back at the fear in her voice and for a moment he was back on a desert planet, running through a monster's graveyard. He blinked at it was gone. She was still looking at him, but her face was just a bit too serene for his liking. "Who?"

She shuddered, pulled her hand away from the little box, and backed her way along the hull. "Grief, rage, hunger, hate. They come when you call." The helmet lifted and Riddick could see the shiver running through her body. "She sleeps but she hears, sleeps but she hears. Voices inside, scrabbling like ants. Boarded. Ate the crew. Raped the crew. Set the bait, set the trap." She gave one last shudder and stilled, the reflected light of stars the only thing to tell him where she was. "Reavers," she said, just as he was about to crawl over and shake her, or worse. "Pax is not peace. Pax is death for many and grief for the rest. They float, they raid. They hunt." Riddick had a moment to curse the fact they were in suits. Her scent would tell him more; because while her body language was still fearful, her voice was strong. "If she'd been awake and mobile there would have been no more. No more Reavers, no more hunters. Would have let them take the hunters, and then taken them. Gone home to Mother and her crew." She looked at him then, crawling forward till he could make out those huge brown eyes, set hard and angry. "She _will_ go back. You cannot stop her."

He chuckled and sat back on his heels. He had no intention of letting this one get away. She was the most fun he'd had since he'd fucked with Johns' mind back in that hellhole. He felt the last of his plan drop into place with an almost audible click. This was just what he'd been looking for, a way to ditch the Necros and get the hell out of the known universe.

"Going to have to disable the tracker first," she muttered, having come all the way back over to poke around in the nest of cables. "Can't disengage without catastrophic damage to both ships. Can't leave until engines are repaired either." She looked up at him and grinned, a joyful look all out of keeping with the topic of conversation. "She will take him with her if he likes, but he must not chain her again."

Growling, Riddick lunged and caught her on the shoulder. She bounced once when she hit the hull, but then her boots caught and stuck. "What makes you think I'm taking you anywhere? What makes you thing _I'm_ looking to go anywhere? Got my own ship."

"Engines leave trail. Very traceable. Why be this far out else?" She shrugged, supremely unconcerned. "Why inspect a drifting ship who knows how far from occupied planets if you didn't have a use for it?" She leaned up, her faceplate meeting his. "You are different from them. Not a Painwalker. Rule through blood and fear and…" she tilted her head. "Amusement?"

Riddick just snarled and reached for the tube from her oxygen tank to the helmet. "What makes you think you know all that?"

"Apologies. Tranquilizers still in system. Cryo drugs don't mix. Don't like it when they make her die. Disjointed thoughts and running mouth." She paused. "Appalling grammar is a side effect." When he didn't yank the tube, she continued. "You do not bear the scars of the Painwalkers." Riddick flinched when her arms came up around his, hands touching either side of his neck. "And you roar at them. But they take it. So how else would you rule?"

Growling, Riddick backed up, as much to let her up as it was to keep her hands away from his neck. The crazy bitch was all sorts of creepy, and it'd be his luck she'd manage to hide a blade somewhere on her suit. Or make her own grab at an oxygen tube. She sat up, propped on her elbows, and looked at him with solemn eyes. "Men will come to check on leader soon. She will apologize for screaming and running. Did not want ships to disengage and end up floating in itty bitty pieces."

And with that, she turned over and began inching her way back along the hull. After one last look at the mess of trouble attached to the ships, Riddick growled and follow. Fucking women. How did he keep getting stuck with the crazies?

The girl's giggle over the comm system did nothing to help his attitude.

Author's Note: They aren't mine! I'm stealing out of the toybox! Cause if they were mine, belieeeeeve me… Anyways, thanks so much for the reviews guys. I honestly wasn't even thinking of the possibility people would think it was Serenity he found. Guess I should have huh? And I agree, there's not enough new River/Riddick fanfic out there. So of course I write my own! I'm going to try to update fairly regular. I'm actually writing much further ahead than I'm updating, so that should keep the chapters flowing for a while.

As always, R&R and you shall be loved forever!


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

_Frail, the skin is dry and pale, the pain will never fail  
And so we go back to the remedy  
Clip the wings that get you high, just leave them where they lie  
And tell yourself, "You'll be the death of me"_

"Remedy", Seether

He had order empty set of quarters that had belonged to one of the ranking officers be gotten ready and the locks reworked so they would only open from the outside. When his men had protested he'd merely crossed his arms and let them guess where his eyes were looking behind the goggles as he'd said. "You keep what you kill right?" That had shut them up. Whatever they were, Necros held to their beliefs and hypocrisy about their creed didn't enter in to the equation. Sometimes he wished it did. Then he wouldn't be stuck in this situation in the first place.

Now he was leaning against the doorframe as two of his men marched her in and unshackled her hands. The bruises on her face were fading, and the wound in her leg had closed up without any help from the medics. There was another on her shoulder, just a scar now, and he wondered how she'd gotten them. The girl turned her head over her shoulder to look at him as the last of the chains were removed and one of the men left. For a moment he toyed with the idea of waiting her out, but her scent was all green grass and warm fire and none of the acidity of fear. Intimidating her hadn't worked so far, and she had a bad habit of turning his mind fuck routine back on himself. It was disturbing how she could make him fly into a rage at the drop of a hat.

The girl giggled and spun in place, the dress she'd been wearing since she came out of the cryo box flaring to reveal a pair of black shorts before she came to a stop, one foot extended behind her parallel to the floor, the opposite hand reaching for the grating. She looked up at him, winked, and stood straight again before moving to the edge of the bed. Riddick blinked when she leaned over first and was she sniffing it? Her nose wrinkled, but she sat anyways, hands folded in her lap and feet together on the floor. "Apologies," she said, still grinning. "Except for screaming, running, and fighting, she has not been able to move free in a very long time." She looked at the remaining Necro in the room, who'd been fingering his gun. "Chains and cryo and being dead without dying you see."

Riddick shrugged and moved into the room, past the other man. "Well now you can move. Stay in these quarters, no more running and killing my men. Don't stay and I'll rethink the deal I'm plan'n. Got that?"

The girl, River, stood and moved around him, poking at this and that, sticking her nose in the tiny head before meeting his gaze through the goggles. "This is acceptable. Presence of the Painwalkers close enough to Reavers she thought she must fight." At this she bowed to the Necro behind Riddick, who shifted and looked to his Lord for guidance. Riddick lifted a shoulder, wanting to see how this played out. "Thought she was going to be raped and eaten otherwise."

Another uncomfortable shift from the man in armor. Riddick nearly laughed. She was better at making his men want to go running than he was, and that was without a shiv or the body mass to back it up. This could almost be fun. She grinned at him again and continued with her inspection of the room. After a moment to make sure she wasn't going to do anything else crazy, Riddick told the Necro he could leave and went back to his leaning, this time against the wall.

The girl made a full circuit of the room before coming to stand in front of him, arms at her sides and head tilted. Her face was scrunched up in a way he'd almost call cute if the word itself weren't so fucking undignified. She giggled again and tilted her head the other way. "Riddick doesn't do undignified, does he? B for Badass. B for big scary man."

Riddick stiffened and found a shiv in his hand. "Been meaning to ask you that. Who's been telling you things?"

She shrugged. "You have. It's in the face. The body language." She wrinkled her nose at him, and he was momentarily distracted by trying to remember when the last time anybody had done _that_ to his face either. "The girl," she said, breaking him out of his thoughts again, "is _jen duh sh tyen tsai_ you know. It's why they wanted her.

There was that language again. Riddick fought the urge to beat this girl into the ground, breathing deep and turning the comforting weight of his shiv in his hands as he rooted his feet to the floor. The girl still smelled of old blood, just faintly of antiseptics, and an odd mix of rain and charcoal. The sour fruit was almost gone, and he figured it must be because she was up and moving around instead of being in cryo. Once he had a firmer grip on his temper, he tried again. "A what?"

"A genius. It's why the wanted her. Box her up and take her back. Get paid."

That was familiar enough. "Mercs then. "

She shrugged. "Bounty hunters. Semantics. Talking. Planning. Could hear them, even when they thought she was frozen." And then her scent changed, lemons and oranges ramming themselves up his nose. He jerked back, startled at the suddenness of it, as she folded herself up on the edge of the bed, hands wrapped around her feet. "Don't talk to the girl! They'll kill you for it. Bleeding from every pore. Nail beds loose in their seats and the white horses on their red hills slipping and sliding off with the flood of it! Keep her tranqed. Keep her quiet. Keep her on ice. Turn her over. Retire and _don't die_. Can't spend coin if you're dead."  
If he ever had this girl nailed down on where her mind was at and when it was about to go off the deep end, Riddick had the feeling that he'd find himself joining her on these little jaunts into riddlespeak. And they called _him_ crazy. At least he'd just killed people, toyed with their heads a bit. Ok, he'd enjoyed mind fucking them, watching them try to sort themselves out before the inevitable hit. Still did, but the Necros just didn't want to play.

"Want her back, finish the work. She escaped, _ge ge_ got her out." Those huge eyes were fixed on his goggles now. "Got out before they could finish. A weapon without targeting. Safety is problematic. Stopgap at best. Want her back under their control." Fine boned hands moved from her feet to her knees, wrapping around them as she buried her face and hid the world from view. Something uncurled in Riddick's gut at the sight, and he shoved it back into its hole, kicking the lid shut as hard as he could. Women and sympathy had gotten him into this mess; he was _not_ going to let himself get attached to another. Grunting to himself in confirmation, he leaned back against the wall and prepared to watch the girl fall apart and turn hysterical. Give him a reason to yell. Anything. Instead, her breathing evened out, her heart rate slowed, and her scent changed. The charcoal faded a bit, the lemons and oranges even more so and in their place came the rain and apples. Did this girl have a base scent at all?

Her voice was calmer when she spoke again, although still a bit ragged around the edges. And so quiet he found himself leaning forward to hear. "She gave away the secret. It burned up her brain the way the last of the drugs are doing now. Fragments here and there. She told the whole 'Verse. Dangerous. Can't leave loose. What else does she know?"

Finally, a way to get off the crazy talk. "Speakin' a knowing things," the Lord Marshall rumbled, trying to make his voice encouraging. Whatever it came out as, he doubted encouraging was it, because she lifted her head and gifted him with such a _look _that he had to swallow down a laugh. This was more like it, getting under her skin instead of her under his. And the best part was she didn't seem to understand the thin ice she walked.

"Do you," she muttered, before straightening and placing her feet back on the floor. The prim little rich girl was back, every line, every bone speaking of having been born to exactly the sort of life he hated. "Born different," her voice was stern, correcting. "Born with clarity. Academy took her, made her a Reader. Enhanced the clarity till she heard. Saw. All. Inside the head, the heart. The intent."

He was across the room before he realized he moved, the girl shoved back on the bed and a shiv tracing another line across her throat to match the one he'd given her in the infirmary. The scent of blood bloomed, but nothing else about her changed. She looked up at his goggles, eyes steady. Sad even. As if she really could see in his head, pick through the memories. Unbidden, the chamber of the Quasi-Dead flashed through, and he threw up a different mental image, one of mindless death and slaughter. Anything to keep from remembering how they'd ripped through his skull and condemned him for being something he hadn't even known existed. "Get out!" He roared when she wouldn't cower. "Get the _fuck_ out of my head!"

Her eyes had glassed over, the smell of charcoal sifting through the rain and apples like some sort of fog. Snarling, he pressed her deeper into the bed, ignoring the Necro guard who'd come in and was aiming his weapon in their general direction, trying to decide which of the two lunatics was more of a threat. The shiv in his hand bit just a little deeper, broke just a little bit more skin. And then there was a knee in his balls and a set of claws raking down his face as a cool edge made its own bite into his throat. Stunned, trying to guard himself while _not_ cutting his neck open on the blade she'd stolen from him, Riddick shouted and stumbled backwards. Even as he caught his balance and started forward for another strike, the tiny little bitch slithered off the bed and into a fighting crouch across from him.

"You get out of _my_ head, you _ching wah tsao duh liou mahng_!" She growled. Where she'd palmed the second blade from he had no idea, it wasn't one of his, but he was too focused on not getting his mind read to really worry about it.

"What the fuck you talking about, me get outta your head," he barked. The Necro had backed out, wisely deciding that his Lord Marshal could handle the crazy girl and not looking be dying before his due time. Riddick followed him with his ears, but the girl's eyes flickered just slightly as the door slid shut. Seeing his chance, the big man lunged. And missed. As if she'd never taken her attention off him, she slid under the strike and a little closer to the door. Growling, Riddick moved to block her escape.

"She can't get out. You broadcast. Loudly. Clear, ordered thoughts but still _loud_. Your Painwalkers scream in their heads about what they used to be. They cut open her brain and took her no fear."

That brought him up short, and the strange thing in his stomach uncurled again, rapping experimentally at the lid to its hole. A bit of the blinding rage fell away and he straightened a bit. "They what?"

The girl stood upright, and crossed her arms, scowling. It would have looked childish if it weren't for the blades she still held. "Her amygdala. They took it from her." She paused a moment and tilted her head at him, as if waiting for something. Riddick was too busy tamping the animal back in its cage to notice any meaning behind the movement. "She hears it all. _Feels_ it all. Stays out of heads as much as possible, is better at blocking than she was. But they broadcast. Loudly." In another sudden change of mood, she wrinkled her nose and grinned. The apples and rain were back. "Like when the Riddick asked for names."

And just like that, he was spitting mad again. In some distant part of his mind he wondered if the girl was playing with him, the way he sometimes played with his victims. But the rage was boiling over, and he didn't have time for self-analysis as he set himself to getting past her guard.

The little bitch giggled as she dodged, and he felt the kiss of metal along the outside of his arm as she spun past him. "Wanted to scare her," she sang as she passed in a billow of apples, rain, and…silk? "Was waiting for it." Snarling, unthinking, he followed her through the turn and got her in the shoulder with fist wrapped hilt. It reversed her rotation, and she moved with it, turning the blow into a high butterfly kick that caught him in the back of the neck. He caught himself on his elbows and pulled his feet under him, ready to lunge for her. But she wasn't in front of him. She'd used his neck as a step and bounced up and over, landing behind him. Whipping around, he was brought up short to see her standing, still as a statue. His forehead smacked into her upraised hand and she grinned again. It was so totally at odds with the situation, with the blood still trickling sluggishly from the cut on her neck, with the deep seated rage still boiling up in him. Somewhere his animal was panting out a laugh at this little girl hitting him like a dog to be disciplined. He tamped it back in its hole for the time being. "Couldn't know," she whispered like a child sharing a secret. "Couldn't know that she'd had heard of worse."

Thought followed only slightly behind action as he leaned his head into her palm and glared through the goggles. "You got the convict. Murderer too. See the rest." And he opened his mind, uncaged the animal, and somehow, threw it all at her.

The girl's eyes glazed and she swayed on her feet under the onslaught. But she didn't go down, the lemons and oranges didn't come back, and the charcoal wasn't even a hint on the air. Apples, rain, and something like wet earth filled the air around him, and he had the strangest feeling that he wasn't on a ship in the middle of nowhere at all. If he looked, he could see the fields of grass, wet with moisture, and feel the damp soil beneath his feet; it was like no planet he'd ever set foot on.

And then the feeling was gone. The smells were still there, but they affected only his nose, not his other senses. The girl's eyes were focused, and she was rubbing her thumb along the strap of his goggles. The wet earth smell rose to dominance as she pulled her hand back, and he stepped firmly on the instinct to lean forward and keep contact. "Worst thing you think you did though," she murmured. "Is laying in the cargo hold."

He froze. His animal roared. They stared at each other, her heart steady and her eyes sad. His racing, and the blood rushing in his veins. He tightened his fists, shiv in one hand forgotten, as he tried to pull the burning in his chest back. He could feel the handprint there, throbbing; and the last thing he needed to do was pass out in front of this little cunt. Finally, he unclenched his jaw and grated, "Fuck. You."

The girl sighed and stepped backwards until she found the wall, then slid down it in a tangle of arms and legs that somehow sorted themselves into the lotus position. "Apologies. Need to meditate. Been too long. Lucidity is slipping. Need to refocus."

Riddick didn't move.

She opened one eye, then closed it again. "Either kill the girl, leave, or attempt to control your breathing, please and thank you. It will be boring if you stay. And scenting won't yield proper information without a frame of reference."

A breath. Another. A growl clawed its way up through his mouth and past sneering lips. She didn't open her eyes again. Finally, still rumbling, Riddick turned. Stopping at the door, he said "You don't leave this room without a guard, we clear?"

"Illusion of control is important. She understands."

Stalking past the wary Necro outside the door, Riddick tried to dodge away from the thought that this time, he may have met his match.

**Author's Note:** Alrighty people. Another chapter, another episode in my little game of how long can I keep these two at each other's throats? You'll find out eventually XD. Business first though. They aren't mine! /cry. Whedon and Tuohy and the Wheat brothers and Vin Diesel have all made boatloads more money of these characters and their respective universes than I ever will (and I'm not gonna end up making any). That said, I love that I get to play with their toys!

Rachet: Thanks so much for the reviews! They give me a happy every time I see them!

Karakot: We will see Serenity and crew eventually, but for now these two need to get to know each other a bit better. I think I answered the "How is River in cryo" question with this chapter. She'll let a few more bits and pieces drop as we go that flesh things out a bit.

Guin: I do love you forever! And ever! I'm glad you like the voices for these two. I'm having a hard time writing River though. She's such a wordy know-it-all. :P

Dayzejane: Yay! Thanks so much for the review. Love your work. You were my impetus to go digging through wikis and comics for more lore to flesh these worlds out. When I thought of doing a Riverick fic, my first thought was to get River into Crematoria somehow and then have Riddick go looking for her afterwards, but there were too many problems with that, so I stuck with the cryo. I wanted to do something a bit different, and definitely not another retelling of _Pitch Black_. I love pretty much all the variations I've found here on , but there are only a couple that are set post-CoR and I really wanted to play with Riddick after he'd lost the last person he tried to protect. Thanks so much for the feedback!

A couple notes: A) Can you spot the _The Hobbit_ reference? Yeah. Love it. Couldn't help it. B) I am going to be drawing not only from the TV series and movie of the Firefly universe but some of the comics and tidbits I find in wikis. I'm also going back to a couple of different documents Dayzejane clued me in to: _The_ _Arc of the Verse_ and _The Verse in Numbers_. As for Riddick, I'm poking through wikis, rewatching the movies over and over, and the novelization of _Chronicles_ gives a fair number of insights not only into the Necromonger mentality but to the reasons behind cryo in their spaceflight. D) I'm using a couple of websites for my Chinese translations. One seems to go soft on the cussing, or tone it down a bit; another is more of an ep by ep rundown of the terms used. C) I'm going to be using nautical terminology a fair amount in this story. After all, ship, boat, blahbittyblah. So here are a couple of terms to help you out.

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

_ching wah tsao duh liou mahng_- Frog-humping sonofabitch

_jen duh sh tyen tsai_-An absolute genius

_ge ge_-brother


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4

_Ah, but don't, no don't sink the boat _

_That you built, you built to keep afloat_

_Ah no, don't, no don't sink the boat _

_That you built_

_ "_Float", Flogging Molly

He was in the small cargo hold, going over the assessment of the foreign ship when a quiet knock broke his concentration. Looking up, he saw a Necro in full armor, posture reading all sorts of confusion and apprehension. They didn't like coming in here. Couldn't understand why he didn't cremate her and move on. Sometimes he didn't know himself, why he didn't just dump her and keep going. He nearly had once, before a woman who'd finally found her courage had browbeaten him into going back. Stupid women, always dying for him. Because of him.

"This one has no intention of dying any time soon," came a now familiar voice from behind the Necromonger guard and Riddick swallowed a growl. Much as he'd love to take it out of the man's hide, he understood. The little witch seemed to have a way of turning logic on its side and getting people to do things they'd never have considered. Such as keep her alive when he should have just killed her and taken the other ship. Or keeping her in cryo until he was far enough away she'd have no choice but to go along with him.

She giggled as she stepped out from behind the guard, pale skin luminous to his sight, hair a dark drifting cloud. His goggles were down, the lights in the bay kept just bright enough that the Necros wouldn't trip over anything if they had to come in and it was a touch too light for him to want to handle if he didn't have to. She didn't seem to notice, boots dangling from one hand as she glided on bare cat feet over to the cryo box that held Kyra's body. Setting the boots down, she knelt, tattered skirt drifting around her, and placed one hand on the edge. Riddick fought the growl building in his chest and forced himself to keep away from his shivs. Her face was calm, reverent almost. The sanest he'd seen her yet, and the curiosity in him just _itched_ to see what she'd do next. Whether in answer to his thought or of her own choice, the girl stood in one fluid movement and turned to face him. "The girl needs clothes if possible. Doesn't know how long…" and she fluttered a hand over her body, indicating the torn and bloody dress she'd been wearing for at least the past two days. "Female merc was only slightly bigger. Need to go over to the _Hound_ and search for more." Her eyes glinted, and Riddick got the feeling that wasn't all she'd be looking for. She winked and he nearly jerked, settling for scowling instead and thinking hard on how nice it would be to have his thoughts to himself. She gave him that look again, the one that made the man want to strangle her and his animal laugh.

"Fine," he stood and crossed his arms to add weight to his biggest scowl . "You can salvage." She didn't bat an eye. A barked command and the snap of his wrist and the Necro guard bowed himself out, looking all sorts of pleased about not having to deal with the crazy girl.

She didn't comment on the fact he'd obviously decided to be her escort, but she did huff and cross her arms as he turned to go. "She has a name."

"Too fucking long," he replied without turning. "And you never use it anyways. Now, you want clothes or not?"

He laughed when she grumbled a bit to herself and ran to keep up. "She does."

The girl, River, didn't head immediately to the bunks when the crossed into the _Hound_, choosing to wander the ship instead. Riddick considered making her just grab the clothes and leave, but she seemed to know what she was doing and he needed a better assessment of his chosen form of transport and escape anyways. What his Necros had given him was geared more towards their view of capture and kill opportunities than to getting it cut free of the trap and moving again. Frankly, he thought they just like to blow anything that wasn't Necro in origin to bits, but he was biased.

She poked through everything, opening cupboards in the galley, checking gauges on walls; she'd ignored the hold completely after the first cursory look, giving the cryo box still sitting in front of the infirmary a look and a sniff as she passed it. When she finally got around to the bunks, it wasn't the woman's she entered first. From the lingering smell of cologne, it had been a man. From the large jingling pouch she pulled from a loose panel in the wall, he'd lay odds on it being the captain's.

"Thought you needed clothes," he muttered although the idea of hard currency was nice. If he only knew the denominations and value.

"Assessing resources," the girl muttered, yanking a fold-out bed from the wall and popping another panel there. Another bag of coin joined the first. "How long will supplies last? How to pay for fuel and bribes and docking fees once civilization is reached?" She pointed at the bags, "Just got paid. Riding high off of last job. Several thousand plat in the bags. Mercs don't work for Alliance creds. Money what lives in banks can be taken back." A little more jiggling, this time in the tiny dresser, yielded a third bag, this one much emptier. The girl dumped the bags out on the bed and started sorting coinage. Riddick leaned closer, trying to make out numbers and markings. She looked over at him and grinned. "Was good payday. But taking _River_ would have left them set for a very long time, even split ten ways."

"'Sat so," he said, poking at one of the bags she was refilling.

She snatched it out of the way. "Two million plat. 1.75 in credits, but as _I_ said, mercs don't like currency they cannot hold." Apparently satisfied with how she'd divvied up the money, she stuck the bags back where she'd found them and waltzed out the door. Literally.

Riddick caught up with her in the next bunk, which had been the woman's, and leaned against the hatch. "Two million. What'd you do?"

She stopped, motionless, and he caught the fainted tinge of lemons before cool water washed it away. Her movements, fluttery as they'd been, turned purposeful as she yanked open drawers and sorted through clothes. "Was born," she said quietly. "Was born a genius and went to a school that was not. _Ge ge_ spent two years getting her out." She looked up and met his gaze through the goggles. "She has told you this already."

He shrugged and tried a different tack. "Confident you'll make it back though."

She snorted and turned back to the pile of clothes on the floor. "Why haven't you killed her yet?"

"Entertainment."

"Lie," she threw a pair of pants off to the side. "Need her. Need to know what she knows about merc vessel so he can escape." A few more pieces of clothing flew and she looked up at him. "Need to change now."

He shrugged and gave her half a grin.

"At least turn around. This is not a skinshow. And if it were, you would still need to pay. The girl does not accept Universal Dollars."

Something in his stomach lurched at that, and a wild vision flashed unbidden across his mind. She flinched, just slightly, and he could see one hand inching for the knife he knew she usually had along her thigh. Grumbling to himself about women and decency and how soft he was getting, Riddick turned and stared out into the hall. He could hear cloth rustling, sliding over her body, dropping to the floor. A second or so of silence and then more small noises. Leather, he guessed, over something soft. A belt being fastened. Apples, rain and warm vanilla flooded his nose, and he kept himself occupied with trying to guess what the new smell meant. He was still running through the options when the girl brushed past him, bare feet making hardly any noise. She'd left the boots sitting next to the folded pile of her old clothes. He caught her by the elbow before she was completely out of reach and turned her, taking in the new clothes with a raised eyebrow. A pair of drawstring pants, loose enough for easy movement but not baggy enough to cause trouble in a fight. A wrapped shirt of what felt like cotton, long sleeves with loops on the end that were hooked over her middle fingers. A leather vest over that, belted under the ribcage. She'd dug up a hair tie somewhere, and the dark cloud was pulled into a loose ponytail behind one shoulder. "Where you goi'n?" He said finally, when she refused to cave and speak.

She frowned and tried to pull her arm free. He moved with it, refusing to let go. "Bridge," she huffed finally. "Assessment incomplete. If you wish to know the state of the ship you will let her go."

"Got a name little girl."

"So does she," she scowled back and tried to step out of his hold again. He let her; chuckling as he followed her into the tiny cubby someone had the nerve to call a working space. She fit much better than he did, or even the Navigator had. "She will help you if she can. Is a pilot. A genius pilot." The girl got herself situated in the chair and ran a hand over the controls. "You know what the first rule of flying is?" She said, her voice changing slightly, taking on an accent he couldn't recognize. "Love. You can learn all the math in the 'verse, but you take a boat in the air you don't love, she'll shake you off just as sure as the turning of the worlds. Love keeps her in the air when she oughta' fall down, tells you she's hurtin' 'fore she keens. Makes her a home." Riddick frowned and moved around to get a better look at her face. Her eyes were closed and the wet earth smell was starting to rise. She ignored him and continued in her usual voice. "You are an old warbeast, sly like a fox, full of many screams. But I will try to love you, at least till we get back to Mother."

"Fancy words," Riddick grunted as he crossed his arms.

"Captain Daddy's words. First advice he gave on flying." She giggled and started flipping toggles and hitting buttons. The console hummed to life, screens coming up and status buttons flashing. "Only thing keeps him in the sky. His take offs and lands are exciting."

The big man snorted, eyes tracking her hands as she worked. "And why should I trust you?"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and grinned. One of the screens beeped and she looked back at it before answering. "Can't read Chinese. Half of bridge is written in it. And she can fix engines." Another button, a firm nod, and she turned in the chair to face him fully. He didn't say anything, just glowered and let his thoughts of skepticism float at the top of his mind. She wrinkled her nose, but stayed silent. He had the oddest feeling that she was seeing those thoughts, and digging at the ones beneath them. Ones about how tiny she was, the way her skin looked to his ungoggled eyes. He seen her kill, seen her go crazy, thought that this might be her sane. He was still trying to figure her out, figure out why he hadn't killed her. Not that he couldn't once he finally hit a planet again.

"She has trusted him so far," the girl said quietly. "You can scent her, she can hear your thoughts," She shrugged as he snarled. "Hypocrite wanted she to hear mistrust in his head. Didn't want her to hear thoughts of having to kill her if she proves to much a liability." She turned back the console. "She wants to go _home._ He does not wish to lead the Painwalkers. This ship," she patted the chair she sat on, "can get you away, but without the girl it will be impossible. Even after escape." She leveled a look at him from under the hair starting to come loose and fall across her eyes. "And you could _try_ to kill her after. She considers dumping him on Persephone and leaving him to fend for himself. Big scary man would get picked up quicker than thought. Can only be one thing, way he looks."

"Oh?" Riddick leaned over the back of the chair until his mouth was next to her ear. Apples and rain, partially hidden by the strange woman's borrowed clothes, bloomed. The warm vanilla was there too, with just a trace of cool water. This girl smelled like so many things that shouldn't have matched and yet fit, like pieces of a puzzle in a chaos of colors. She turned her head, just slightly, and he caught a glint of dilated pupil before her hair hid it. Interesting. No fear smell to go with the tell, or much beyond a tiny hitch upwards in heart rate. He grinned to himself and brought his arms down around her, one on the armrest of the chair, the other draped over the back of the seat. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked at him, but said nothing. Still grinning, he moved just that little bit closer, feeling lips brush skin as he asked. "What am I?"

Her heart rate didn't go up again, but she drew in a breath before answering. "They see a dangerous man. A big _huh choo-shang tza-jiao duh tzang-huo._ Must have done bad things. Lock him up before he can do any more." She turned back to the console, taking the chair with her. Riddick let her, straightening slowly and savoring the smell left in his nose by her hair as it passed across his face. "Gotta tell me what those words mean sometime little girl."

She snorted. "Is not _ni zi_. Adult. Only look tiny. And you are an animal fucking bastard."

Riddick tipped his head back and laughed. She ignored him in favor of the screens in front of her. "Life support functional," she said when he was done. "Emergency systems acceptable. Will have to inspect engine to determine extent of damage there…External containment…" she did something and the display changed again. "Ah…"

"Ah… what?" Riddick leaned over her again to look at the screen, but could only make out about half of what was said on it.

"Reavers had bits of brain. Disabled external grav field. Engine probably fine, mostly," She brought something up on a different screen and pointed. "Without, fire up engines and fry in the radiation." She glanced up. "You do not like not having upper hand. Not knowing things. Hate the girl for knowing what you don't."

He shrugged, as much as he could in the small space. "Information is power, gets you out of places." He met her eyes through his goggles. The emergency lights were still flashing, and at this angle they made her face look drawn and tight. The scent coming off her though, had nothing in it of fear. "Don't like trusting people."

She turned back to the console and did something else with the displays. This he could sort of understand. It looked like a map of suns and their systems. "But she needs you too. Takes two to fly. One in engine room, one in cockpit. She will teach you if you let her. Fix grav boost." A dial this time, and the image on the screen zoomed in on one of the suns "Trust her to get the ship back to civilization"

Riddick grunted and scowled at her. "Don't like civilization much."

She giggled and he stared, wondering at her sudden change of mood. She giggled again, as if in answer to the thought, and he made a mental grab for the closest thing he could think of that didn't have to do with her. He came up dry, with only the remembrance of the vanilla in her scent to distract him. She giggled harder and he snarled. "Stay out of my head."

"Can't," she was doubled over now, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around her stomach. "You are broadcasting." Abruptly she stopped laughing and took three deep breaths, the silk he hadn't noticed rising in the air fading slightly, but not going away entirely. "Breathe," she said. "Think on your breath. It will help."

"You or me," he growled, and was pleased to see her shiver slightly.

She didn't reply, just shook her head and went back to the screens. He waited, fingering the shiv in his belt and growling under his breath. Just as he lost patience and opened his mouth to demand an answer, she spoke again "Not so far at all. And too far."

"What is?"

She pointed at the corner of the screen, where a set of numbers that looked like a date blinked. "She has been away from Mother almost three months. Captive for five days, ten hours. Adrift after Reaver attack for two months, twelve days. Attached to the Painwalker ship for two days, three hours and…twenty one minutes." She shook her head and sat back. "Still in charted space. Unsettled though. Nearest uninhabited star system too far for practical inclusion in Alliance." She looked up at him now, eyes serious. "At current fuel levels, at hard burn, chances of reaching a planet or space station to resupply are approximately forty-six point three percent. Is a week trip at hard burn. She didn't float far, just long. But distance from occupied space is great enough that it makes no difference. Chances to make it while conserving fuel rise to approximately seventy percent. But supplies of food would run out. And there are still Reavers to factor into the equation." She blinked up at him." They come even now. They come when you call, after all."

"And there's still the beacon attached to the ship," he growled and stood, all set to head for the cargo bay and suit up. He brought down a hand on her shoulder, the better to get her up and moving so she could help him pull the trap on the hull apart. She shrugged away from him and stood. "She was going to disable it," she grumbled. "But a big _hwoon dahn_ followed her out the airlock, then had his men nearly strangle her when she went back for tools." She glared at him, and refused to move when he took her arm and tried to get her to follow him. A shiv was in her hand and she set the tip to the underside of his sternum even as she dug her heels in and pulled against his grip. "Doesn't matter now. Leave the tracker. Will need it in place."

"What the fuck you talking about," he nearly shouted. "Got a beacon on this ship. Calling who knows what in along with those _Reavers_ you're so afraid of to blow us all to pieces. Want it off!"

She shook her head frantically. "Need it on. Need the Reavers to come. Only calls them." She twisted her arm in his grip and got inside his guard. The blade was pressed to his throat now, and cool water surrounded them. He brought up his other hand to grab her shoulder and she leaned back and kicked him in the gut. The breath left him in a _whoosh_ of air, and he yanked on the arm he had hold of as he stumbled. The movement drug her forward and then he had her, wrapped in his arms, shiv at her back. She huffed and glared up at him and he stepped on her foot before she could bring it up and either try to knee him or get him in the instep. He'd forgotten she'd left her shoes off, and her cry of pain distracted him enough for her to duck and twist out of his grip. Glaring, she backed up till she hit the pilot's seat and folded her arms. "Need Reavers to come. _Not_ afraid of them. Die like men." Now she leaned forward and poked him in the chest, just as he made another lunge for her. "Need fuel. Kill them, steal the fuel. Make it to settled place."

And then she was past him, running down the corridor towards the cargo hold and then down another hall opposite the tiny infirmary. Riddick grumbled a he followed her, threatening skinning and stabbing and anything else he could think of inside his head and _pushing_ it in her direction. This little girl was going to drive him just as crazy as she was.

He found her in the engine room, half under the engine itself. For a moment he contemplated dragging her out, but the thought passed quickly. He still didn't know the inner workings of this thing, and keeping on what passed for her good side seemed like the best bet so far. So he leaned up against the bulkhead and said "Still, don't much like civilization."

He voice was muffled, but the laugh was clear enough. "Loose term. Settlements on the Rim. Stay away from core worlds. Bright and shiny and _clean_," she said it like a bad word. "Empty moons and fresh terraformed planets. Fuel stations though. And supplies." A hand reached out and pointed at a toolbox sitting nearby, "Wrench please." Riddick snorted, but bent to grab the box and set it closer to her hand. She sighed, but fumbled around till she found what she was looking for. "Set course in direction of Red Sun System. Blue Sun is closer, but not what we need." She slid out from under the engine, dropped the wrench in the box, and scrambled towards the back of the room. "Dangerous. Under populated," she looked over her shoulder at him and her eyes were huge. "Where she got taken. Killed six before they made her sleep. Broke their tranq gun when she woke up again. Woke to screams and grief. Then only silence." She was fiddling with a nest of wires sticking out of a broken panel. Riddick leaned around her to see what she was doing and caught a whiff of the vanilla again. Before he could comment, she'd shoved a fistful of wires at him, still attached to something inside the hull. "Hold please. And don't yank."

Bemused, the big man did as asked, occasionally accepting another wire into the bundle as she sorted through, trimming some, splicing others and ignoring the rest altogether. Her scent was all around him, apples and rain, vanilla; and he found himself content to just breathe it in. Something in him settled, and even his animal didn't protest. Finally the girl spoke again. "Will probably end up on Triumph. Or Harvest if we can. Possibly the skyplex. But not Blue Sun. No Haven there. Haven is haven only for the dead."

"What?" Riddick was confused now. The crazy riddlespeak had seemed to mostly burn out of her system with the last of the cryo drugs and tranqs over the last day or so, leaving her speech disjointed, but clear enough. Was she only lucid part of the time then? Or had the meditation worn off?

She giggled and looked over her shoulder at him, seeming oblivious to the fact that the action drug her hair, and therefore her scent, over his face. He snorted and backed off, trying to get clear. "She is better than she used to be. Talked of cattle not knowing what they were, cut the man with the girl's name so his shirt was red and not blue, rubbed soup in people's hair." She sobered, and turned back to the wires. "Miranda. From the Latin. To be admired, wondered at. They wanted her to be a shining star. A world of people made better. G-23 Paxilon Hydrochloride. In the air processors." She gave the wire she was working on one last savage twist and nearly shoved it into his hand. Riddick growled, but took it as she continued in a voice full of rage and sorrow. The wet earth was back, drowning out the vanilla. Along with it came steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed. "But Miranda is horror and Pax doesn't bring peace. Ninety percent of population on that _go tsao de _world lay down and _died_ where they stood." She shuddered and took a deep breath and Riddick wondered if she realized she was leaning back, into his chest. Abruptly she straightened and went back to her wires. He tried not to feel the loss; he could see where her line of conversation was going as sure as if she'd drawn him a map. After a moment she continued. "And estimated three million became Reavers. Aggression out of control. Driven by rage and grief. After the purge…" she shrugged. "Unable to ascertain the remaining number. Nobody stupid enough to go near Burnham Quadrant and check." She reached back and slipped her hand around his, dark eyes wide as she met his goggled gaze. "Wires back now please and thank you."

Blinking at the sudden turn of focus, he complied, stepping back and leaning against the bulkhead again, although he wasn't sure if he was proving something to himself or her. "Stupid plan, trying to fix people." Stupid? Hell. Insane. His animal raged inside at the idea of someone trying to _fix_ him. He was just fine the way he was. Plenty had tried to fix him. He'd go mad and eat people too if they tried to dope him up with chemicals like that.

River had stuffed the wires back into to wall and gotten the panel to shut over them. Now she was crawling over the engine, poking at this and that. He watched her for a moment, the line of her leg in the pants, the way the muscles shifted. Once you got past the fact that she had a habit of saying things that made no sense and apparently thought she was some sort of acrobat, a man could appreciate the body that housed the crazy.

A wrench came out of nowhere, and he barely managed to catch it before it impacted with his skull. "The _fuck_," he roared. "The fuck was that for?"

She was scowling at him, perched on top the engine and holding a blocky piece of metal in her hands. She hefted it once, and lifted it as if to throw. "Broadcasting again. She is not an acrobat. Dancer. And not as crazy as she used to be. Also," she hefted the part again. "She is not a toy. Will not be played with and left alone. Not an object." She glared and raised the part a little higher. "Academy treated her as toy, for their own amusement. Wanted a wind up soldier to go and kill the snakes in the grass. Cut off the head of the brown, kill the snake." She slammed the part down on the engine and started finger tightening bolts over the pins that held it in place.

Riddick growled and stalked over, picking his way past the debris on the deck plates and getting angrier with every step. "Listen crazy girl, " he growled, leaning up so he could get in her face, free hand on her ankle and his grip tightening with each second. "You stay out of my head. Thoughts are my own." He yanked, and she wobbled, grabbing for leverage and glaring down at him. "Wasn't think'n you're a toy. Man appreciates a good body."

She tugged on her ankle, but he had a good hold and refused to let go. Switching tactics, she tried to kick him in the face, but he was ready for that, and changed his grip, pushing the force back at her. She nearly tipped off the other side of the engine housing and flailed, grabbing for purchase. He nearly lost his goggles as her hand scrabbled over his head and the snarl that ripped from his lips was more animal than man. She stopped and stared, but her eyes didn't show any fear. If he had to guess he'd say it was fascination.

And just as suddenly she was back to glaring. "Think to use her to get free of Painwalkers," she spat. "Think to learn what you can of this system and kill her. Dump her in the Black where no one will see. Maybe have some fun before you do." She made another, albeit less forceful, attempt to free her leg. He moved with it this time and managed to half drag her from the engine. She spat and hissed. "Long time 'tween women. But she is not _his_. Not a _toy. __Tian xiz shou you de ren dou gai si! _Will no one let her be her own!? Be_ River_?" And she let go of the bits of engine she'd been clinging to and took a backhanded swing at his jaw. He dropped the wrench and caught her fist, snarling and wishing he could reach for a shiv. Girl was going to drive him mad. Stark raving mad. And all he could think at the moment, if he was really thinking at all, was how beautiful the steel and vanilla coming off of her smelled. No woman; not Carolyn with her guilt or Kyra with her hero worship, had looked at him with such unflinching fury in her eyes. Fry had been trying to get him to rejoin the human race, do a good thing, to help assuage her demons inside. Kyra had been mad he'd left her, determined to _become_ him, and ready to kill anything in her path to prove it. But she'd never had the bone deep fire that this tiny girl did.

They hung there, the girl suspended between a hand on the engine, her other hand captured in his and a leg pinned between his elbow and his side. He was growling and she was panting out her rage in little huffs of steel and vanilla and it was all he could do to keep himself from swinging her around and slamming her up against the bulkhead. He'd never taken a woman against her will and he wasn't about to start now. Her eyes narrowed and he felt her tense, then relax, and it dawned on him that she'd been thinking he'd take her unwilling. Do to her body what had been done to her mind. He nearly dropped her in disgust.

Slowly, carefully, she pulled first her leg and then her hand free of his grip. He couldn't read the emotion in her eyes as she lowered herself to the deck. Steel, vanilla, apples and rain floated through the air as she stared up at him, with something new cutting through them all. Mint. Slowly, carefully, she rose to her tiptoes and reached for his head, and when he would have stopped her his animal cried out in protest. So he let her run her hands over the goggles, took a breath full of the confusion of her scent as she hooked her thumbs under them, and braced himself for the pain as they came off. She only moved them far enough to expose his eyes, and rested her hands to either side of his face like blinkers, shielding him from the worst of the emergency lights. They didn't flash in here, but the steady glow was bad enough. They stood for a moment, just breathing, and his animal noted that there was only the sound of one breath in the tiny space between them. Finally she tilted her head to one side and smiled slightly. "After they are free, then the man beast may _try_. But he must remember that like will be returned for like in equal measure." She gave his head a slight shake. "And he will remember that she is not a toy, not a _jien huo._ Or she will take the skin from his back and use it for his burial shroud. _Dong ma?"_

And then she was gone, yanking the goggles down before slithering out between his body and the engine and scrambling through a pile of electronic detritus before he could take another breath. And before he could reach for her and demand what the _fuck_ she'd meant she was shoving something in his hands. "Here," she muttered. "Portable Cortex. Will help you learn. She cannot pilot and take care of engine at same time."

And that, apparently, was that.

**Author's Note**: Yay! Another chapter. With…more arguing. And fighting. No, this will not end soon. I'm having _far_ too much fun playing with other people's toys. Which reminds me, THEY'RE NOT MINE! The Firefly universe and all of its occupants are © Whedon. Riddick and his home planets are © Twouhy (I never can get that spelled right) Vin Diesel, and the Wheat brothers. Boo on them. I still think this universe mash-up would be the greatest thing ever.

In other news, this story will continue! I really am working to keep Riddick all scary and badass, while still showing that his innards are made of marshmallows where women are concerned. I hesitated to put the mentions of him planning to kill River once he's free in here, but I wanted to get the point across that he's still reeling from Kyra's death, from Imam, and even Caroline. We see him soften in the end of _Pitch Black_, and grieving in CoR, and he's not really looking to get attached again. And besides, River's tried to kill him at least once so far and dealt a few hefty bruises as well. That tends to write people off his "Do not kill" list pretty quickly.

Again, if you like it, you hate it, whatever, please let me know! I THRIVE off reviews. I love them! They are my lifeblood! XD

Rachet, I look forward to your reviews! Love to see them. Although if you look at Firefly the series, they sprinkle nautical terms all throughout the show. Anything to do with spaceships tends to do it. I just have the advantage of having worked on boats, so I have a bit of trouble NOT using them. Thanks muchly!

Guin-I know. Wordy River. Wordy Riddick too. Working a few chapters ahead and got stuck on a bit of dialogue. Once I got them out of the speaking and back into the thought, I had no trouble. Does this say something about me? Or the characters as I interpret them? I'd love to leave River on the boat with the Necros a while longer, but we'll just have to see…

Tanama30- Glad you liked! That's going to be the theme here: Match. I'm actually hoping to avoid the word love. Too tame really.

Alexydra- It seemed such a River thing to do. And I love messing with Riddick's head.

Shenandoah76209- Whooo! Another Riverick writer reviewing! Love Invictus, love that you reviewed! Love that you like this! Please come back! Would love to hear what you think of this as it progresses!

Terrange Rogue- Thanks muchly! I plan to torture them really. And then tease them with peace. And torture them some more. But it should be fun!

Translations:

_huh choo-shang tza-jiao duh tzang-huo_- Animal-fucking bastard.

_ni zi-unsure. _I've picked it up from other fics. Assuming it means "little girl" or a variant of. Research online isn't helping.

_go tsao de_- dog humping

_Tian xiz shou you de ren dou gai si-_Fuck everyone in the universe to death.

_jien huo_- cheap floozy

_Dong ma_- understand

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this. Fiery death!


	5. Chapter 5

Ch. 5

_My captors are convinced that I'm pinned_

_Down in dependence on the system that fostered_

_An institution of thieves_

_But I live to see_

_The shock on their faces when my cell is empty_

"Off the Grid", Project 86

She didn't bother to say anything when a large hand wrapped around her foot. What was the point? He hadn't surprised her and she hadn't surprised him. He knew she'd been sleeping in the air ducts. He'd found her up there in the first place. She snorted to herself as she hung there, suspended between ceiling and floor, and felt his amusement wash over her. "Decide to try the floor this time," he rumbled, and she found herself incredibly glad that he hadn't fully sorted out which scent meant what on her.

It had been scent that had given her away the night before, as she'd known it would, but the value of sleeping near a mind that didn't scream at its own memories had outweighed the confrontation she'd courted by hauling her blankets into the airshaft and making herself a nest. It had been a risk to be sure. He hadn't been at all happy when she'd shoved the portable cortex into his hands earlier that day and started teaching him what meant what in the engine room. Used to having the upper hand most all of his life, being relegated back to the level of schoolchild had irked him even more than her threat to repay like with like. The threat, or promise, depending on the viewpoint, had excited him as well; and she'd sought her refuge in the comfort of metal and machines that could only whisper of what had been, not of current thoughts that teased and tempted.

But then night had come and she had felt her careful facade of sanity cracking under the pressure. The cries of the Painwalkers, marginally bearable during the day and made slightly more so by proximity to the Riddick, only increased at night. And her mind, left defenseless by sleep, had nearly shattered that first night in the room. So, shaking and trembling with others' nightmares, she'd bundled up her blankets and tucked them all into the junction nearest the Lord Marshall's quarters. And they were. Not the Riddick's, because she caught his disdain for the opulence of the rooms in brief echoes of his mind. He preferred a pallet on the floor, just enough covering to keep from shivering awake but not enough to hinder him should he need to rise and fight for his life.

She'd even gotten in a few hours' sleep, wrapped in his dreams of a brief time living on a planet of sunlight and civilization and an even briefer time on a planet that would try to blister you with cold or boil the blood in your veins if caught on the surface. There was no panic in these dreams, no true fear. Only planning and execution of plans. It had been a comfort.

Till the fans in the vents stopped for the night and her scent had drifted down into his breathing space. She'd had less than a minute's warning between the cessation of his dreams and the jiggling of the ceiling grate to borrow just a little deeper into her nest before a set of silver eyes had surfaced over the edge and turned in her direction. "Can smell you ya know," he'd rumbled, and she'd been torn between begging him to go back to sleep and trying to crawl up and lay her ear to his chest so she could wait till he spoke again. Declining her instincts, she'd attempted reason instead, in hopes her body would obey. "She knows," she'd muttered and stuck her head out to look at him. His eyes had narrowed and she could feel him wonder why she'd never commented on them. Nobody had been able to keep from saying _something_ at some point, but she wasn't planning on indulging him any time soon. Privately, she'd decided they were wondrous, like a pair of stars brought down from the night sky and set in his soul as markers for the rest of the world to measure themselves by. Keep up but don't step up or else you'll die was a phrase she'd plucked from his head, and she was certain that she'd finally found someone who could manage the first and avoid the second in relation to herself. It was lonely being a weapon-girl-river, and she had a feeling that having a man-animal nearby would help alleviate some of that. But not if he planned to toss her aside first chance he got.

They'd stared at each other for a moment, him scowling into the dark, her with her head tipped upside down and the hair blocking most of her vision. She was in a bad position to fight, wrapped up as she was, but all she'd really wanted was sleep anyways. Finally, when it had become apparent that he wouldn't speak, she'd continued. "His mind is clear. Honest. Not screaming in pain. Much easier to sleep in his vicinity than in range of her guard." And she'd burrowed back into her blankets and waited till he went away, which he did with a long drawn breath of her scent and a delicious hair-on-end growl.

The following day had been more rounds in which he tried to get a rise out of her, any rise, and her alternated between losing patience and attempting to deflect the temper back at him. They'd danced around each other, and it had been made more complicated as she tried to keep tabs on the Painwalkers' growing suspicions along with the fine tuning of engine repairs she wouldn't get a chance to test before they needed to come into play. Oh how she wished for the Kaylee girl! Engines talked to her, and only whispered to the river. She would manage, but her knowledge was from the cortex and what she'd picked up out of her sister-in-law's mind, not from a bone deep instinct for would work and what wouldn't, even without specialized training.

Things had come to a head when the navigator had come to the door of the _Hound's_ engine room and inquired, ever so politely, as to when his Lord would like to disengage from this foreign ship and continue on their way. There had nearly been blood over that and it had only been the Riddick imposing his bulk between her and the Painwalker, warned by the steel and rage in her scent, that had saved the man's life. He reeked, reeked of deceit and betrayal. Of self, of his old beliefs, of his current Lord most of all. He planned to hail the rest of the fleet soon and that could _not _be allowed. Bad enough to have _one_ ship full of _go se_ Painwalkers so close to her people. An entire fleet of them would make the Reavers look like puppies in a shop. Add the Pax to the process helped create them and the recipe was for far more than disaster.

She'd regained her equilibrium in the moment between being blocked and realizing he'd done it on purpose, and grinned at the Navigator with her most psychotic grin. He'd flinched, as well he should, and the Riddick had rumbled a laugh before a huge hand had landed on her head and rumpled her hair. She'd snarled up at him for a second, before the half formed plan in his mind had made itself clear to her. Still grinning brightly, she'd hefted her wrench, listened to the animal's silent laugh, and replied for him. "She has offered to guide him to Haven. Place to bury the dead. The cargo in the hold will find a new home and the grief shall guard the dead." There had been interest in the gazes of both the men, and she could feel the curiosity of the animal next to her. She'd tried to look confident, tried to project it at him, the seriousness of what she'd said. She had meant it after all. It had been truth. But taking the Painwalkers didn't work in the equations. The calculations only computed destruction. Painwalkers in the vicinity of Reavers, no matter how she juggled the math, ended in only one thing. More pain, more death, and a rampaging threat across the systems. Luckily, the Riddick had taken up the thread of the conversation and eventually sent the navigator away. She'd refused to continue in his game of cat and mouse for the rest of the day, and focused as much of her mind as she could on getting the engine fixed and the Riddick taught. It had irked him, and they'd nearly come to blows, but she could feel the rage approaching, it would be here soon.

It was here now.

She realized that she'd been hanging there for several moments, lost in thought, about the same time he started to slide one hand up he leg to brace her as she swayed in midair and his thoughts turned to something bed related but not really sleep. She tried to kick at him, and only succeeded in turning herself into a human swing. Or a pendulum. Now there was a thought. Maybe he'd swing her around like a rope tied to a tree. Maybe he'd take her by the hips.

Vanilla in the air, relayed to her by his interest in it.

Focus River. Flow in the direction needed.

"Let go of her please. She is quite capable of landing on her own."

He rumbled a quiet laugh, only slightly irritated. "You were going to land on my head."

Better sound apologetic. Not as if she'd meant to do so. Not as if she'd planned to. "Apologies. Only grate she could get open." He hadn't let go, and his hands _were_ on her hips now. No help for it.

She let go of the ceiling and felt him catch her weight. Apples and rain and vanilla bloomed in his mind, along with is mental assignments for each. Too close. Too close. Too close to knowing what she felt by knowing what she thought. Or was it the other way around? She was sliding down, hard muscles all around her as he controlled the drop. And then a hard something else she knew wasn't a muscle. Her mind froze. Ran backwards. Was it because of her? Did she really affect him like that? His mind had teased and hinted and outright blasted her with things he'd wanted to do to her given the chance, but she'd thought it was just because she was the first woman he'd had in reach in eleven months and twelve days. The holy man's woman didn't count. Or was it just because he'd been asleep and most men woke up like that? It was something she knew well. She lived on a boat crewed by a group of the most testosterone infused men she could think of and had the randiest sister-in-law in existence and didn't that twist the river now?

Disgusted, she rubbed at her head, trying to get the mental images of how her own _brother_ woke out of her head and searching desperately for something to replace it. The knowledge that the Riddick slept shirtless invaded her brain, followed closely by that of vanilla and mint and...He couldn't identify that last one. She knew it though. Simon's cooking. She was giving off the odor of Simon's cooking as her disgust with herself. _Shun sheng duh gah wahn_!

He was laughing at her, mostly silently, but she could see his animal, gape mouthed and panting, teeth flashing white in the dark. Jaguars shouldn't laugh like dogs. And men shouldn't mock her for having hormones that reacted properly to their presence. She was actually a little proud of that. She'd worried at times that those hormones and reactions would be forever out of reach, thanks to the missing bits of brain. Never had she noticed man or boy before in this way. Maybe she wasn't a Pinocchio turned real girl, doomed to stay a girl and not turn into a woman. Not ever.

A distant flash of rage jolted her out of her thoughts and she knew she should be grateful that he was still holding her, even though her feet were on the floor now, but she didn't have time for this. Didn't have time for games or placating this man-animal. Danger danger danger. Gasping, she fell backwards and down, trying to keep her flailing hands away from his face so as not to further annoy him. "They come," she rasped, and tripped over a blanket on the floor. She caught herself, but it gave him time and an excuse, which he didn't really need but he thought he did, to catch her again.

"Who," he rumbled.

A breath. Another. A reminder to self that Reavers died like men, even on a ship of such size as the one that was approaching. Another reminder, this one of the fact that a ship that big had to have enough fuel left over after the hard burn and hard treatment to get them back to _some_ sort of settlement, if only they could make it alive to the hydrogen banks at its rear. Could the brain rewire itself to make up for a lack of amygdala?

He shook her then, gently, and she got control of her wobbling head long enough to peer up at him out of the curtain of hair. She could smell him, the leather of his harness and arm guards; steel of his blades, sweat, and something uniquely _him_ with no name she could pin down. It was the Riddick, the only solid and mostly sane person in reach, and she wrapped her mind around his and sank into the comfort it gave her, all unknowing to the owner. In its tree, the jaguar shifted over to make room for her, and its nostrils flared as she brought the sudden scent of cool water with her. She took a breath, dug her metaphorical fingers into the fur at the base of its neck, and opened her eyes again to look up into starlight.

"Reavers," she rasped again. "Come. Soon. Before the watches change." She knew her eyes had glassed over, but there wasn't time for a line between sanity and insanity right now. "The girl has killed the navigator before he could hail the fleet. Bridge crew is dead. Has disabled gravity staffs and most of the guns in the armory."

And hadn't that been tricky, leaving her blanket nest and the clothes she'd worn for two days so he wouldn't notice her diminished scent in the air ducts and slipping around in the tattered dress she'd come aboard in. She had been able to pluck the knowledge of the weapons and their workings from various minds around her, and had thanked Shepherd's faulty God that none of them were too complicated. There was just too much work to do.

He tilted his head just slightly, and she felt him going over the bits of the plans she'd given him and filling in the gaps. "Bait?" Something in him recoiled at that, something about the blue eyed devil and keeping the girl with a boy's name from becoming so much meat. She blocked it as best she could and tugged on his arm with her whole body, leaning back and away. He growled and held her tighter. Stupid man. His jaguar just huffed and lay it's head on a set of massive paws.

"Yes bait. Cannot let Painwalkers roam free in this territory. Reavers will finish. Blow both ships when done. Obliterate. Only way." And she leaned back again. This time he let her go, eyeing her up and down and just now noticing the scent of her old clothes lingering. She'd changed back to her borrowed merc gear, and raided the _Hound's_ weapon's locker for blades. She'd been looking for the sword especially, which she'd strapped to her back with a promise to _never_ let go of it again. She knew she'd break that promise soon, but it was the thought that counted. In her own head at least. Only words truly counted with others. "Need to go. Get the girl who wished to be him," she continued and had the private satisfaction of seeing him rear back in surprise. "Was serious about offer to guide to Haven and help bury her. Will be good home for her. Safest place the girl can think of. Guarded-"

"By grief, yeah," he growled and rubbed a hand over his head. "And how do you plan to get her to the _Hound_ without anyone noticing?"

How stupid could he be? Maybe he couldn't keep up with her after all. His nostrils flared at the smell of steel that coiled through the air around him and he glared down at her. She yanked her head up, pointing at the ceiling with her chin. He looked up at the gaping hole into the vents, then down at her and chuckled. "That will only work till you get to the airlock."

She shrugged. "Inconsequential. By that time, alarms will be going off on bridge. Crew will have other concerns. _Hound _is ready to disengage. She disabled the trap, left it on Painwalker ship, took it off merc vessel. It has been a long night. Not much sleep has been had nor will be had." Now she grabbed his hand, huge in hers, long fingers ready to swallow her up like a kitten ready to be stroked. But the kitten had sharp teeth and sharper claws and would bite even as she purred. Bad thoughts. Distracting thoughts. Steel and vanilla.

She pulled on his hand, trying to get him under the hole in the ceiling. "Must _hurry_ you big _hwoon dahn_." She growled, and knew she'd just cemented the kitten analogy in his head. Not enough time to worry about that. "Need to have the _Hound _disengaged and drifting before Reavers get in visual range. They must have a place to dock so that they do not blow us to bits. ETA is thirty minutes!" She yanked again and finally got him to move, although his understanding was laced with a good deal of amusement at letting himself get shoved around by a girl not even half his size. She wanted to kick him.

"An' how would you know that," he growled in her ear as he pulled her close and boosted her back up into the vent. She scrambled up and in, moving further down so as to give him space. Once he was up, eyes gleaming in the dark, mind anticipating being able to see her while she couldn't see him, she lashed out with a foot. "She hears your mind you_bun tyen shung due eedway ro_. And if she chooses she hears with your ears, smells with your nose and sees with your eyes." The last few words came out in a snarl, just as much at herself as it was at him. Hopefully if she continued to insult and abuse him he wouldn't keep trying to take fistfuls of her heart and wrap them around his, a process the jaguar was all too pleased with. It meant she couldn't leave the base of its tree and it could fall on her whenever he wanted. The man was all unknowing to be sure, but it didn't change the fact that she thought she was losing herself to him. At least he hadn't tried to change her yet, the way everyone else who held her heart did.

He grabbed her by the foot again, and she scrabbled at the sheet metal of the vent as he dragged her back and under him, starlit eyes glaring and lips pulled back in a snarl. He had to let go of her to attempt to grab her by the shoulders to shake her. He still hated the idea of anyone, even a kitten like her, in his head. She couldn't blame him. She didn't choose to be there in the first place, but with the link she'd established for calm came a wash of sensations and feelings. He was more disturbed about the lack of pain he felt from her sifting through his thoughts than he was over the idea of her being there in the first place. Not for the first time she cursed the Quasi-Dead and the Painwalkers in general. How could a people so far away continue to make the river flow so wrong?

Steel, apples and rain; cool water fading. The jaguar stretched and rolled in his perch, tail twitching. The man was still snarling and she heard the tick tick ticking of an old fashioned clock somewhere in her head. Not enough time. Too much had passed. Sanity slipping as the rage and grief drew closer. Time to move before all was lost.

She'd missed her chance to get away from the shoulder shaking. He'd been talking to her too, while her mind had wandered. Helplessly she looked for the big cat, but it ignored her, staring at the Reaver beneath its tree instead. Wise cat. She couldn't threaten it at this point, but the Reaver was screaming and waving a sword and trying to climb. Now why wouldn't the man see the threat as well?

"Are you even listening to me?" She could feel his voice in her bones and it called something in her, something that wasn't the girl, but wasn't the weapon either. The river flowed, mixed, and became a stream of blades that danced like the girl. The fog lifted, and although she could still hear the screams of the Reavers and the dreams of the Painwalkers, she found herself standing in a clearing, body of a Reaver nearby and the jaguar nearby licking its claws. Was this sanity, she had a moment to wonder; before the big cat looked up, stalked over, and swatted her tip over teakettle with a velvet paw.

Hands came down, clawing and scratching, and she realized that they were her hands, and she was digging furrows into the arms and shoulders of one incredibly pissed off, incredibly worried man who by all rights could have and maybe should have snapped her like a twig. Chest heaving, she stared up at him as she fought for control of her hands, but they still flailed and she couldn't seem to get her panicked body to catch up with her cognitive thought processes. She didn't get the chance either, as he laid himself over her, pinning her legs with his weight and dragging her arms up over her head. Apples, rain, and the overbearing mixed scent of steel and blood washed over and around her. He was still hard, everywhere, and she knew the vanilla would be too faint for her nose even as she fought the urge to _writhe_ under him. Why did her body and heart have to choose now of all the _shee niou _times to decide to function like a normal girl's?

"Now," he growled. "You ready to act sane?"

Act sane. Because they both knew she was the furthest thing from. "Yes," she panted, trying to drag in air around the weight crushing her chest. "But she cannot breathe. Let her up please?"

He waited a moment, then raised himself over her again, but didn't let go of her hands. "You were the one in the hurry. Cost us time."

River was a little too busy catching her breath for a second to answer him, so she let her eyes do it for her. He smirked, as if he could Read and understand the stream of curses she was directing at him in her mind, and let go of her. The river was still a stream of dancing blades, and the girl and the weapon temporarily merged with it. She wanted to _go_, to get this over with before she slipped back into the waking dream again, so she moved while she could, twisting over onto her stomach and crawling forward. He let her go a few feet before following. The jaguar wasn't amused. Entertained yes, looking forward to a good hunt yes, but not amused. Something had changed while it had downed the Reaver, and it had tasted the blood of the enemy and found it good. She only hoped that it would stop hunting her once it had found its other prey.

Her breath had steadied by the time they'd gotten to the cargo hold, and she kept watch over the ship as Riddick fiddled with the buttons, dials, and latches on the cryo box holding the girl with the boy's name. The only minds awake were the ones that should be, and the fresh cries of the guard she'd slain to gain access to the weapons lockers had faded into the background of the ship already. A hiss and the slight clunk of the box's lid being opened recalled her attention to the present location, and she peered inside, head tilted as she resisted the urge to stroke the dark mass of hair arranged around the pale stubborn face. She could hear the whispers, much clearer than they had been the last time she'd been in this room, of desperation and wanting, determination and despair. Such a sad girl, believing herself unwanted, driving herself to become worthy. She knew that feeling.

And then the Riddick was there, one hand on the shoulder in the box, the other entangled in that hair. He was looking down at the girl that lay there, something unreadable on his face but his thoughts full of regret and shame and anger. River wanted to reach into his mind and take them all away, to tell him not that it was all right, but that it was all right to feel helpless in the face of them. She did. She did all the time. If she hadn't come to terms with it at some point, she really would have merged with Serenity.

Not that there weren't still times she wasn't temped to try.

Slipping up next to the jaguar, back in his tree, she ran a hand down its back, even as she slipped up and laid a hand on the Riddick's shoulder. He turned to look at her, resignation foremost in his mind, and the question of whether he had yet another woman tying herself to him; and what crazy things she'd get him to do for her sake? River wanted to stop. Stop right there and absorb the fact that he was thinking of doing things that would save her, take care of her. All unasked. Were his innards made of soft caramel and it took a woman or a girl-child to break through the plascrete around it? No time for that now.

"Distance is short," she whispered. "Probability of being caught in the halls between here and the airlock is two point six seven percent if haste is made and movement is quiet. Will shave two minutes seventeen seconds off of time it would take to lift girl with a boy's name into vents and move her that way," She looked away from his gaze, unable to face the look he was giving her even as his thoughts roiled through her. Instead she fixed herself on the girl in the coffin. "Could make up for the girl going crazy earlier. More dignified."

Kyra'd never been worried much about dignity. River felt the tinge of amusement in the thought, and then the knowledge that he'd projected at her on purpose. She tilted her chin and looked at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering at how thought and action became one and at how he continuously surprised her. It was a refreshing feeling. He wasn't looking at her though. He'd reached into the box and, ever so carefully, lifted his past into his arms. River had to shut her mind to him then, all except the barest thread. He was reliving every moment since he'd met Jack, the blood, yelling, fear, and pain, all of it. She needed to focus, and getting wrapped up in their story wasn't going to help.

The halls were, as predicted, mostly clear. The sensors were just beginning to pick up the incoming Reaver ship on the bridge, but the place was only occupied by the dead, and so they couldn't see the opening and closing of the doors between the two escapees and their destination either. A few guards stood at their posts, one around a corner and stationed in front of the main weapon's locker, another placed in front of the way to engineering. It had grated at Riddick to be the one waiting, but it just wasn't practical to keep leaving Kyra on the floor when River could do just as good a job at getting rid of the obstacles. She'd let him know that with a solid glare and her scent at the first sticking point, even as she'd palmed a knife, twisted her hair up to stuff it down the back of her shirt, and ghosted around the corner. Riddick had his sweet spot that he favored; she liked a place a bit higher and centered right on the spine when stealth was needed. The height disparity was a bit of a problem, but she landed on the man's back without tipping him over, even as his surprise shrieked in her mind. One hand clamped over his mouth, the other drove the knife into his spine in the gap between helmet and the rest of his armor. Her weight pulled him backwards as he fell, and she did her best to soften the sound of metal hitting metal even as his mental shrieking quieted and became the whimpering of the dead.

The next two were just as easy and just as unnoticed. The Riddick was watching her with speculation and something close to admiration, but there wasn't time to bask in the feeling of someone not _fearing_ her for what she was before they came to the last corner and a spot of trouble. She looked from the two guards in front of the airlock between ships to the mountain standing next to her and swallowed a sigh. At least he'd get to play. With hands and eyes, she got him to set his burden down, and even as straightened and asked her in his head what the fuck she had planned, she turned and skipped out into the open.

His shock and rage were things she'd treasure later, knowing she could pull the same stunts on him that he'd managed on her. In truth they were well matched.

And then the guards, equally stunned, leveled their weapons at her and asked very carefully what she was doing out of her room. She stopped, coming up on tiptoes, hands flying to her mouth even as she tracked the Riddick with her mind. He'd caught on, and was pulling his blades, mind sharp with anticipation. "Oh," she whispered in her most childish voice. "Is this not the way to the tea party? Madame Inerva will be _so_ disappointed!"

The guards each took an instinctive step forward, not sure what to do about the girl their Lord had declared hands off, but not willing to take risks either. The step was all that was needed, bringing them just past the little half wall that guarded the airlock and right into the Riddick's reach. The scent of blood washed over him, and the liquid itself poured over the guard's breastplate even as he was lowered to the ground. River grinned up at him, still feeling the streams of blades in her veins, as she pulled the knife from under her guard's jaw and wiped it on a bit of exposed cloth between armor plates. She couldn't tell if he blinked at her, as he'd hidden his eyes behind the goggles again when they came out of the vents, but she knew his jaguar had pricked its ears with interest, even as he growled at her for pulling such a stunt. She merely stuck out her tongue and palmed open the airlock, leaving him to gather the other girl and follow. She needed space. Needed to get away from the song of the blood that called her to dance death upon any in reach. Too long. Too long without proper calm and meditation. Too close to having come out of cryo. She could feel the balance slipping again, and a Reaver screamed in her head. Riddick plowed into her from behind, unprepared for her sudden stop, and irritation made itself known as he nudged her in the back with an elbow.

With exquisite care, she turned to stare up at him, cataloging the different kill points versus disabling wound possibilities in her head as she did so. The body in his arms was a weakness. Steal the steel along his legs and deprive him of those weapons. Hook a foot around his and bring the mountain down. Cool water was gone, replaced by steel, charcoal, and something he couldn't identify. She could. Witch hazel. Sheer insanity, not the slightly crazy of charcoal.

"Hey," he growled, and just like that the trance was broken. "Get moving. No time for losing your mind."

A deep breath. Another. She sank both hands into the jaguar's fur and buried her face in its neck as it nuzzled her shoulder and _purred_ fit to shake her to pieces. Centered now, she took one last breath and turned back around, leaving the man confused and angry and wondering why his animal was so smug in her presence.

Proximity alarms were starting to go off on the bridge of the Destroyer as they finished placing Kyra in the empty cryo box. No time to hide it. No real need to. River grabbed a pair of cargo straps and handed them to the Riddick, feeling the need to hurry beat louder with every pump of her heart, driving the blades even deeper into her skin. Box tied down, she ran for the EVA suits, grabbing the two they'd been using and shoving them at him. He snarled and asked what the fuck they needed these for, but she only had time to give him a look before getting behind him and pushing. "Hurry hurry hurry," she chanted frantically, cursing his stubborn need to know what was going on at every moment. Didn't he have _any_ faith in her? _Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng!_

He finally got moving, and he had barely cleared the hatch when she slapped the button to close it and the inner doors. Surprise and anger at her betrayal roiled out of him as he turned, but then she was diving through the closing doors and poking him in the arm even as she tried to take the suits from him. "Quick, quick. Close this side. Disengaged. Visual range soon. They must be fooled!"

He growled, but did as asked, for once not trying to bully her with any of his foolish posturing. She allowed herself a small sigh of relief as she heard the seal disengage, and hoped that the spacer's lines she'd attached to the bulkheads of both ships wouldn't get damaged in the oncoming chaos. It was the last sane thought she had, as the triumphant shrieks of the Reavers ripped through her head.

Visual range.

She collapsed.

**Author's Note:** Let's get this over with. They're not mine! Whaaah! I wish! But they're not. Firefly/Serenity is Whedon's. Riddick and his environs are © Twouhy (Sp?), the Wheat brothers, Vin Diesel, take your pike. But not me! Boo.

I have come to a realization the past couple days. This is going to be one looooong story. Not quite to the proportions of _The Firefly Chronicles_ (Hi Dayzejane!), but long enough. Dang these two and the fun I'm having screwing with their lives!

As for this chapter, it needed to be written, but I had River go off and do a bunch of stuff on her own, and THEN tell Riddick. I just didn't have it in me to write all that down…

Thanks so much guys for the reviews as well. I'm loving the feedback. **Please do so again! **I know I've answered a couple of you in PMs but here goes:

ChiraraMaella: Thanks muchly! I'm having fun with them too. The tone will change slightly as the story progresses, but I' hope I don't lose the sparks that tend to fly between them. What errors? I want to go get them corrected if I can (although River's train of thought doesn't lend itself to good grammar very well.)

Rachet: You're right, fight fight fight! I can't say anything more. Can't give spoilers after all… XD

Senandoah76209: Whoo! Glad you love. And there will be more. We'll see more of the mushy marshmallow Riddick later on (at least mushy IMO, he'll still growl and threaten but he's full of it and they both know it). 17 chapters written and I just threw him into clothes shopping with River. Guess how well THAT played out :P

I-am-a-slash-addict: Glad you found the story. Glad you like it! And there will continue to be much UST. For a very long time if I have anything to say about it. More fun to torture them ;)

Terrence Rogue: Just keep reading! Love that you're liking this!

Unseen Watcher: Thanks so much! Love to see new names in the review list. I know, there are a lot of fusion stories for these two, and they're all pretty great. But I wanted to go a little different. Body suit though? I'm slightly confused. Although he will get an education in the 'Verse, I'm not planning on dwelling on that too much at the moment. Later, when they're home free, we might see a bit more. As for Necros showing up in masses, I'm not sure. Still haven't ironed out the details of how this is gonna end. And remember, slower ships, and at least two or three years in the wrong direction at the moment…

Translations:

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this. Fiery death!

Line: Rope. Anything above a certain thickness is usually referred to as line. Anything smaller is cord.

_Shun sheng duh gah wahn_!-Holy testicle Tuesday

_hwoon dahn-_bastard

_bun tyen shung due eedway ro-_ Stupid inbred stack of meat

_shee niou_-shit urine

_Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahngI-_ Frog-riding bastard


	6. Chapter 6

Ch. 6

_Sights set on his eyes, mindful_

_Unholy beast, ignorant, prideful_

_With arrogance he gloats_

_I'll play the darkhorse_

_Straight to the throat_

"SOTS", Project 86

Riddick figured that he'd had just about enough of this psychotic little girl for the night. He knew she'd planned to land on his head earlier; and pretty much everything from the moment he'd grabbed her by the foot had gone to shit since. Well, not her reaction when he'd held her after helping her down. But even that had been a special sort of fucked up. Not what he needed to keep his mind in the game, not then and not any time in the future. She was doing it to him, driving him right down into her own branch of crazy, and his animal was _not_ helping drag him out of it. Of all the times to go soft, he seemed to pick the ones where lives were on the line.

Fuck it all anyway.

And then the witch had collapsed, like she'd run out of gas midstep. He'd had half a second to wonder if it had been on purpose, and then he'd seen her face. Her eyes were glassed and her lips pulled back in a fixed snarl. Her hands clenched and unclenched, and it was a good thing she'd put her blades back, because he wasn't stopping to get them. Scooping her and the stupid suits up in a big unwieldy bundle, he ran. He could hear the alarms drifting down the hallways from the bridge; soon the emergency procedures would kick in and the second shift of bridge crew would be woken up so they could go check. And then all hell would truly break loose.

His mind raced, trying to see a way out, but the Reavers made an unknown variable, both in time and in threat, and while he knew that the Necros would be looking for the girl in his arms, he didn't really want them knowing he wasn't on their side any more. Not just yet. Every minute they weren't trying to lock him up and turn this ship around was another minute closer to true escape. He found himself in front of the girl's bunk when the first Necro rounded the corner from the bridge. "My Lord," the man shouted. "My Lord, the bridge crew, they're

all-"  
"Dead," Riddick cut him off, and drew himself to his full height even as he hit the button for the door to the bunk with his elbow. It hissed open and he stalked inside to dump the girl on the stripped down bed. "I know. Someone," he turned to stab a finger into the man's chest, "Wandered off and went batshit. Where was the guard?" He had a feeling he knew. "Where was the guard for the bridge entrance," he roared, and had the satisfaction of seeing the man curl in on himself, just a little. Behind him on the bed the girl whimpered and rolled herself into a ball. He snarled over his shoulder at her and caught steel in his nose, fresh sharpened blades almost literally ripping their way into his brain. Nearly drowning that was the unidentifiable smell she'd been giving off ever since she collapsed, and he fought the urge to sneeze.

The Necro was stammering, something about bodies and guards, and Riddick rounded on him, shiv out and the blade on the man's neck. "I don't care," he growled. "Get back to the bridge and figure out what's going on."

The man never had the chance to comply. The ship lurched, throwing them both off balance and River nearly off the bed. Riddick felt the skin and cartilage of the man's throat part under his blade as gravity and the sudden movement did for him what he'd been considering anyways. Blood poured, and his animal perked up in interest. But there wasn't time for that. He could hear shouting, men having been thrown into wakefulness and looking for the enemy to fight. The alarms were shrieking now on the bridge, and over everything was the ominous noise of metal buckling and ripping. The outer hull, he guessed, and reached for his ulaks.

A small hand, cooler than it should be but still not the deathly cold of the Necros, laid itself over his just as he grasped the handles of his blades. Cursing the over powering scent for filling the room and not giving him warning of her movement, Riddick turned to glare at the girl. Her eyes weren't glassy anymore, and even as he watched something in her loosened. The steel in the air faded and was replaced by the cool water, deep enough to drown in. The scent he was beginning to identify with insanity, for lack of any other identifier, was still there, but not as strong as the water. His mind spoke words he never wanted to pass his lips again and she smiled up him, serenity oozing out of every pore. "She is with you," she answered, and he couldn't help the clench in his heart at that. Her eyes flickered and her mouth made a little moue of sadness. "He broadcasts again. She does not wish to make him uncomfortable." And her gaze moved past him, not really looking at the door, but seeing something else, something beyond. He waited, wondering what it was she knew, and she grinned up at him with a smile full of death. "They are here. Your warriors fight. And fall."

He made another reach for his ulaks, and she laid another hand on his arm. "Not yet. Let them kill each other. Big ship. Very full. Fewer enemies to fight each other means fewer for them to dodge."

It made sense, when he stopped to think about it, but it didn't mean he liked waiting for madmen to come and try to eat him any better. Dropping into a crouch and leaning his back against the wall, he pulled his ulaks and looked them over. "You know you're fucking crazy right?"

She giggled and dropped to her knees next to him. He eyes her skeptically, knowing she could probably come up fighting from that position just as easy as he could, but still thinking it was a risk she didn't need to take. She shook her head and pulled a blade from the back of her belt, running her hands over it as she breathed deep and steady. Meditation, he figured, and she nodded. He sighed to himself and cursed mind readers in general before turning his attention to the sounds outside the room. The Necros would be looking for him in his quarters, and it didn't sound like anybody had communicated his change in location, because all the running feet passing the door kept right on going. Screams, both human and feral, echoed through the halls and assaulted his ears, and he was starting to catch hints of old blood and gangrene here and there.

Luckily, his patience ran out just about the time to sounds of fighting began to die. There was still screaming, more of it even, and he figured the non-combatant crew had been found. Just as he was about to stand, the girl laid a hand on his arm. Looking down at her, he realized that he'd lost track of her heartbeat and scent in his concentration on what was going on outside, and she'd moved to face him without his realizing it. Focused on her now, he could hear the steady thump-thump of her heart. The insanity was creeping deeper into her scent though, and his animal raised its hackles at that.

"Many dead on both sides," she murmured, eyes glassing for a moment. "Necro warriors gone. Crew left. Way to bridge is chokepoint." She looked back at him and he didn't pull away when she reached up to lift his goggles. It was dim enough that the light wouldn't hurt much. "For his own safety, the jaguar must not get in her way. She teeters on the brink, and the river and the girl and the weapon have joined. She does not know if she will be able to unmix them when this is over, and is likely to strike to kill at anything that moves. She apologizes in advance for any injuries she will inflict." She took a deep breath, shuddering and squeezing her eyes shut. "Patterns broken, familiarity lost. Has been too long without true meditation and calm. Hormones off balance. The _fong luh_ comes, the moonbrain speaks and the sister becomes the weapon." She opened her eyes and raised herself on her knees to look at him face to face. Riddick waited, breathing in the growing insanity in the air, wondering if she'd snap right there or hold it together long enough to be useful. Maybe he should break her neck and save himself these injuries she promised.

She giggled, a high pitched sound like someone grinding glass, and he could feel his skin tighten at the noise. "One speed," she murmured, leaning close, breath ghosting over his face. "Do not stop. They will eat you where you stand. Or rape you. Bring you down, defile you. Big man. Lots of skin. New clothes for all. Do. Not. Stop. Moving." The last words were ground out between clenched teeth. "Stay away from airlock. Air leaks when seal forced between ships. Crow shouldn't mate with a tiger. Not compatible. Will need to come back for suits. Radiation in other ship." She inched closer, lips near his ear now, and his blood was singing in his veins with the need to grab her and do _something_. She giggled again, and he groaned and dropped his head. Cool hands at his jaw lifted his eyes to hers. "Do not force her when it's done. For your own safety. She has warned you. Feels the river merge. Insanity comes and becomes the kill. And the next. And the next. Till all breathing are not."

The screams in the halls were growing louder, and she stood abruptly, nearly giving himself a face full of her chest and then hips, so close had she been kneeling. The sword she'd strapped to her back was out and she was moving for the door before he fully registered what she'd done. And then the door was open and there was a _thing _in it. It might have been a man, but now it was beyond animal. He cause a glimpse of metal hooked into the skin around the mouth before it went down in a spray of blood and he yanked down his goggles as he stood to follow her.

Events after that were a blur of blood, blades, and howling savages. They fought their way to the bridge and through it. Then, standing in the midst of the bodies and already covered in gore, the girl had thumbed the ship wide intercom and shrieked something in that strange language of hers. They had half a minute, in which he roared at her for her insanity and nearly got his reaching hand taken off for his trouble before the hordes descended and he lost himself in the fight. She fought with him better than even Kyra had; moving as she'd named herself, a river of blades. Turning, slicing, _dancing_, she moved around him like grace unchained. Sometimes she moved over him, or even under, using his body as a piece of furniture to be treated the same way she was treating the rest of the bridge. He couldn't bring himself to mind, reveling in the glory of the battle, the blood, and the sheer joy of killing those that needed it. His animal had come to the fore, and it moved him in ways that the man, for all his killing ways, would never have imagined. He'd fought with and with Kyra. He and the river girl moved as _one_ as they cut a swathe like Death's harvest through the Reavers. Beautiful couldn't begin to describe it.

And then the screaming stopped. The last of the madmen gurgled out his lifeblood over their feet and the two were left, panting, in the emptiness of the bridge. Nicks and cuts covered their arms. He thought one of them had gotten a bite in and he fucking _knew _that the first thing he'd do once they were home free was fucking _bath_ in disinfectant. He didn't want to think on some of the diseases these freaks could be carrying.

Across the bridge from him, past the ruined captain's seat and the sparking wreckage of the consoles, the girl stared at him, not a scrap of sanity left in her eyes. The cool water was gone in the smell of blood and opened intestines and he wasn't even sure it would have been the water he would have smelled anyways. Sure money said it'd be her insanity, and he tensed when her grip on the sword in one hand tightened in response to that thought. She'd picked up another somewhere along the way, and it sat in her hand, reversed along her arm like a mutated version of one of his ulaks. She brought it up, slowly, and stared at the blade as if noticing for the first time. Then, quicker than thought, she flung it at the last intact console, ending its screaming warnings and alarms in a burst of sparks and the screech of protesting metal. Riddick felt himself relax minutely, relieved that he wouldn't have to kill her for trying to skewer him with a sword.

Wrong thing to think.

She was there, dagger in one hand and sword in the other, screeching at the top of her lungs as she swung and cut. He dodged the first strike, blocked the second with his own blade, and rolled backwards into the hall to avoid the kick to the balls that the initial attack had been hiding. He landed on his feet, growling at the fresh cuts along his shoulder that came from the trip he just taken over the modified hatchet one of the madmen had still been holding. No time for that though, because he had to duck another swing of the sword. Snarling, he grabbed her wrist with his free hand and slashed at her with the ulak in his other. She jerked backwards, and the blade left only a shallow gash through the cut he'd given her down one shoulder of her vest to the opposite hip. He followed up on the advantage of being inside her reach and reversed his swing, catching her an awkward blow to the temple with the handle of the ulak in his open palm. She let the momentum of it carry her back and around and she spun on her heel, wrist in his hand slipping with the blood it was covered in, and drove her dagger down towards the meat of his shoulder. He roared in fury and yanked on the arm he held, pulling her out of her spin and backwards into his arms. She shrieked in answer and threw her head back, and she would have broken his nose if it hadn't been for the fact of her height working against her.

His lip split and he tasted his own blood and the whole world went red. He squeezed her wrist and felt bones creak and begin to snap before the sword fell from nerveless fingers. He managed to get them tucked under one elbow, and the hand with the dagger in it got similar treatment. Spitting and kicking, the girl fair deafened him with her howling as he worked to keep her pinned. He could feel her ribs complaining, and it gave him a certain satisfaction to know that he could end this now. No more crazy little girls. No more being cussed at in a language he didn't even know. No body to speak for his having been here, killed here. Nobody.

His animal reared up then, fangs bared and a hiss of its own burning through his veins. And for once, while the sensation of it disagreeing with the man wasn't unknown, its actions were unprecedented. He could feel it in his mind, a giant paw laying his rage out on the ground and pinning it there. There had never been words as such between himself and his animal, but he had the feeling that it was trying. No, it was _telling_ him: Not alone anymore. The man lay, stunned in surprise. They'd always done just fine alone. It was when they let themselves get tangled with others, with fucking crazy women just asking to get themselves killed, that the trouble came.

No.

The man grunted and tried to get his metaphysical ass off the metaphysical ground. Another swat, this one full of claws that flayed his chest to the bone, sent him back down. No, came the growl. Not alone. She is the match, the counterpart. Keeps up and we keep up with her.

The man couldn't help it. He fought. It was what he'd been born for, and it was how he'd lived. There was no submission in him. Alpha Furyan meant top of the pile, head of the pack, whatever analogy you chose, but it did _not_ fucking mean that he just rolled over and showed his neck, not even for his animal.

The animal sat on him and flicked him in the face with its tail. Smug superiority rolled off it in waves as it made its point. He was _already_ on his back, throat exposed. And it would not suffer him killing the girl.

The man still struggled, but he was weaponless and pinned and the animal's attention wasn't on him anyways. It had lain down, draping himself over his chest, and was staring off at something in the middle distance. He could feel it in his mind, reaching past the rage and the next thing he knew his arms had loosened and the hellcat he'd been slowly crushing was silent. Surprised, he twisted her around, checking for a pulse with the hand closest to her neck. It beat, fast, but it beat. Her eyes were open and the insanity that had raged behind them was gone, replaced with something he couldn't identify. He couldn't tell by her scent either, as covered in the coppery smell of blood as they were his nose wasn't much help. At a loss, refusing to apologize or explain himself, he stared at her through his goggles and waited for some sort of reaction.

Finally, after along moment, a tiny smile worked its way across her face. "The jaguar likes me. Wouldn't let you take your chance."

He dropped her and stalked off towards her bunk.

She caught up with him as he exited, arms full of EVA suits, and she giggled as he shoved the smaller of the two at her. She'd found her sword again, and even managed to wipe the blade clean on something. She'd also picked up a wicked looking ax and stuck it through her belt. Her vest still hung open, but she'd scrounged something to tie the shirt beneath it shut and he only got the barest glimpse of skin through the cut.

She fell into step next to him as they headed for the airlock, only stopping the giggles long enough to warn him to breath carefully as they got near. He understood when they turned the corner. The other ship's airlock was much larger than the Destroyer's, and it looked as if the Reavers had simply fitted one over the other and then latched on somehow. Whatever they'd done though had damaged the air supply in the lock, and he could feel the drag in his lungs. He'd made it halfway across the space before he noticed that she wasn't next to him anymore. Turning, he found her, balanced with one foot in her suit, the rest of it in a heap around her, and glaring at the sword and ax in her hands. She looked up and for a brief moment he thought she was going to hurl them at his head, but she looked back down at her hands and muttered something in Chinese again. He had a feeling it wasn't anything complimentary.

"Just set them down," he grumbled, slinging his suit over his shoulder and coming back over to her.

She glared at him. "Don't like leaving them. Her trophies. She fought for them. Doesn't want to give them up."

"Then we'll come back for them."

She shook her head. "Can't. Need to leave ship to retrieve radion accelerator cores. More efficient to simply take them directly to the _Hound_, as they need to be outside of that ship as well to put them in. Given damage to the bridge of the Painwalker ship, likelihood of being able to return for personal effects before catastrophic systems failure is five point two three percent. That is assuming that the Reaver ship does not blow first, considering we are about to remove the fuel supply of a ship still under power."

God truly did enjoy pissing on his head. It was the only thing he could come up with in reply to that, in his mind or out loud. She gave no indication of having heard, still staring at the weapons in her hands and grumbling under her breath. Heaving a sigh, Riddick reached for them, slowly and carefully, hoping it wouldn't set off another fit. It didn't, and he felt his animal, his jaguar, rumble in satisfaction. Closing his hands over hers, he tugged gently. "You can get new weapons. You don't get another life."

"But," and her eyes were full of unshed tears when she looked at him. "This is sword she took first time she killed Reavers. First time she truly took care of someone else instead of gibbering in the corner."

He tugged again. "And as much as I love that you're crying over blades, it doesn't change what you just told me. Imminent fiery death, remember?"

She pulled against him for just a moment longer before relenting and loosening her grip on the handles with a whispered. "Knew it had to be, but don't have to like it. Didn't want it to be."

Riddick's eyebrows climbed, and he knew she was catching the curiosity firing in his brain by the way she twitched and hunkered in on herself. "We get safe little girl, you got a lot of questions to answer."

That snapped her out of it. He actually kind of liked it. Poking at her for a reaction might be the equivalent of stepping barefoot into a pile of scorpions sometimes, but it was always worth it to see what she'd do. She didn't dissapoint. "_Liou coe shway duh biao tze huh hoe tze duh ur tze_! She is a woman grown, not a _ni zi_!"

Whatever the first part had meant, he figured the last one out from context, and laughed as he turned and buried the blades in the body of a nearby Necro. The man didn't twitch. "Still smaller than me," he said. His animal rolled over on its back, then flopped over onto its side, huffing in amusement. Looking up, he saw the hint of a knowing smirk on her face and groaned inwardly. Making friends with his inner beast was she? Without his say so?

"The jaguar likes her," she giggled and reached down to finish putting on her suit. "Tried to help her when the river and the girl and the weapon merged. _Did_ pull her out when he would have crushed her." The second foot was in the suit now, but she was having trouble keeping the arms straight while managing the helmet hooked to the back. He laughed when she growled and reached over to help, letting his thoughts speak for him. This could be useful, talking to her in his head, not needing to give away his position with actual words. If only she could talk back the same way, he'd never need vocals chords again around her. Which was good. She'd tried to crush them once already.

"And he returned the favor," she muttered, getting her second arm into the suit. "But in answer to the other unspokens, he will have to wait. She is too near the insanity still and needs time to regain equilibrium before she can speak on it without going...sideways again."

He snorted and left her to the final fastenings while he maneuvered himself into his own suit. "Sideways is a mild word."

"Accurate. Was no longer moving forward in thought. Not backward either. Up and down indicate enlightenment or stupidity and neither condition was in effect. Therefore, sideways." She caught at the back of his suit and held the helmet free as he shrugged into the sleeves, then turned and headed for the other ship. Riddick growled and did up the fastenings as quick as he could, not liking the idea of her being out of his sight or reach in such an unfamiliar place. His animal huffed again and he faltered midstep as what he'd just thought sank past the surface of his mind. What was this girl _doing_ to him?

"She apologizes again. But they need to hurry. Imminent fiery death approaches." She'd stopped and looked back at him, face unreadable, scent mostly contained by the suit. But he was starting to get hints of apples and rain again, and decided to take it as a good sign. And she was right. He'd had enough brushes with death for a lifetime; he didn't want to add nearly getting blown up on two mismatched spaceships from opposite ends of the galaxy to the list of things that had almost killed him.

The removal of the fuel cells ended up being the easiest part of the day, despite the fact that she'd told him that the ship was still trying to use them. Apparently a large cargo vessel, it had banks of the things, ready and waiting to be put into use. Which, given what he'd pieced together about the Reavers and what he'd seen of the main hold before the girl had found the button for the floor hatch, was the only reason the ship was still running. She'd explained in bits and pieces as they stepped over the little makeshift campsites and bits of half gnawed corpses strewn across the floor of the bay. Private vessels stopped at fuel stations scattered all over the systems, or 'Verse as she called it, and picked up the canisters they then inserted into their fuel banks. But since the stations were essentially just selling fuel rods in adapters of differing sizes, not fuel rods of different sizes themselves, it would be possible to take the cores out of the much larger canisters on the Reaver ship and fit them into the ones on the merc ship.

The process of removing them he left to her, and he watched as she inched along the ship, examining the fuel hatches with a cocked head and such a listening posture to her body that he knew she wasn't just looking at them with her eyes.

"He is correct," she said over the comms. "Some have been damaged. Reavers operate without containment. Suicide, but they do not truly wish to live anyways." She nodded and waved him over, pointing at the latched set around the hatch. "Open, and pull _very_ carefully on red handle within. Will release canister. She will remove rod when they reach the _Hound_." She moved on without checking to see if he'd follow her direction and he growled. Whipped. He was whipped by a girl-woman not half his size and the scariest part was _not_ that it wasn't new; it was that he didn't mind.

She giggled.

They ended up pulling five canisters, and he'd watched nervously as she tied four of them together in pairs with something she'd taken from the belt of her suit. Scavenged belts it looked like. The last she left loose, and kept herself as she handed the others to him. He'd given her a look for that, but she'd ignored him and scrambled past, down and around to the belly of the Reaver ship. He'd growled and followed, dodging the mangled and burnt husks of bodies that had been strapped down here and there and cursing this end of the galaxy in general. If he met a single sane person here, he'd be surprised.

He cursed her especially when he missed his grip coming around the bottom of the ship near where it met the Destroyer. Should have at least made her take one of the pairs. Then he wouldn't have to risk floating off into space. She'd been waiting for him though, and caught him by the foot and dragged him back. She was laughing at him, even if he couldn't hear it or smell it. He snarled. "We get shipside _ni zi_, there's gonna be a talk about who takes the lead."

She shook her head, but didn't say anything for the moment. Instead, she point at the hull of the Destroyer. There, just centimeters outside the forced seal the Reavers had made, was a length of spacer's line. He followed it with his eyes and wanted to sigh in relief. At least they hadn't lost the _Hound_ in all of the mess.

Getting down to it and getting the fuel rods moved from one set of canisters to the other wasn't so hard, it just required care. And time. By the end of the process, Riddick wanted nothing more than to wash all the blood off and out of the suit. The stench was starting to get to him and he figured killing for a shower would be acceptable at this point; the extra blood would come off same as the rest. The girl ignored him, going about her business with the cores, putting the first four into their canisters and replacing them in the ship. That done, she'd crawled over to where he was waiting, impatiently at that, and handed him the last of the Reaver's canisters. He looked from it to her, eyebrow up, and grunted. "What's this for?"

"To throw," she said, grinning up at him, and pointed at the tail of the Reaver ship, maybe a hundred meters above them in space. He could see some sort of rotating machinery there, spinning slowly. "Knock out the last of the grav boost. Containment that allows ship to move forward as well. Imminent fiery death has not occurred yet. Blow the ship for certain."

It sounded like a plan to him. No point in leaving evidence after all, at least not intact evidence. So he hefted the canister, took aim, and gave the thing a very calculated and forceful shove. It drifted off course just slightly, but still hit the main mass of his target. A few seconds later the apparatus stopped, the mechanics started to twist and grind, and the Reaver ship started imploding from aft to nose. The Destroyer ship he'd never bothered to learn the name of did the same shortly after, and he figured it was probably the best thing he'd seen since he'd roasted the biorapters crawling all over a skiff and left a planet of darkness and terror behind.

Fucking beautiful.

They didn't run into trouble again until after they were on the ship. Engine startup went all right, and he'd remembered most of what she'd shown him the day before. Once she was sure he had it down, she'd left for the bridge and what followed then was a flurry of barked orders over the shipwide comms on her part, grumbling on his, and a good deal of cussing. Finally, the engine had spun up, she'd gone through the checklist, and any doubts he'd had about her self-claimed title of Pilot had been thoroughly trashed. Whether she could land them anywhere had yet to be seen, but at least they were moving.

All he'd wanted after that was a shower. He'd seen a communal head on the first inspection of the ship, before the crazy girl had popped out of a box and started screaming and killing, and he was beating tracks for it when he nearly ran right over the top of her. She was coming out of the bridge at a fast trot, already undoing the vest, and he grabbed her by the shoulder as she tried to get around him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Clean," she snapped, and the charcoal and insanity started creeping back into her scent. "Covered in blood. Drowning in it," she tried to pull away again. "Can smell it. You can smell it. She gets smell from you. Feedback. Eternal loop. Must be _clean_!" And now there was the panic. But he'd had a shit day, had nearly been killed by and nearly killed a crazy little woman with more bloodlust than common sense. Enough was enough.

"Sure. Shower," he rumbled, "Me first though."

At some point he knew he'd learn better than that. Nest of scorpions and all. Turning out the lights and walking blind into a darkened coring room. Take the pick of fucking analogies. Didn't matter. She'd hit a nerve cluster in his shoulder and was sprinting down the hall before he even knew she'd moved. He ran after her, grabbing her around the waist and tossing her back behind him. She hooked a hand around his ankle as she fell and he got an up close and personal look at the deck plates, just before she literally _ran_ over him, planting bony heels into his spine. He roared and reached, but she was leaping, summersaulting through the air and landing just beyond his grasp.

Cursing and spitting he lurched up and forward, catching her again and rolling with her until they slammed into the door to the head. She writhed in his arms, planting a foot in his balls and an elbow in his jugular. The shock of it doubled him over, and he cursed himself for forgetting to put any armor on before psycho had decided to drag him all over the Necro ship. She was shrieking now as he crushed her, involuntarily but inevitable. A set of claws raked over his face and he felt the goggles go. His eyes had been open, and he roared again in pain as he got a face full of one of the lights at floor level. That loosened his grip enough that she was able to wiggle out, and as he scrabbled for his goggles and cursed at the top of his lungs she ducked into the head and the door slid shut behind her.

"Dammit girl!" Riddick lurched to his feet and pounded on the door pad. It slid open, to reveal the last of a bare foot slipping into the shower stall. He lunged, but the shower door nearly took his fingers off as it closed. "Get the fuck out of there!

"No!" The vest came flying over the door and hit him in the face. He snarled and grabbed it, balling the thing up and seriously thinking that if he just punched _through_ the stall door maybe that would make his point. The tatters of her shirt came next, and about that time his brain shut down. He could see her silhouette through the fogged glass of the door, slim and now mostly naked. Blood rushed, but it wasn't upwards.

"She hears you. Broadcasting." There came the belt and the ties she'd used to bind her pant legs. "Looking at her like _they_ looked at her. Covetous. Wanting." The words were a snarl that cut through the haze of lust and made his animal sit up and take notice. "Called it observation. Pretended to be clinical. Weren't." The pants flew over the door and he nearly lost himself again when he realized she wasn't taking anything else off. Not that he hadn't known in the first place that she didn't have any underwear. Nothing the merc woman had owned would have fit her, and the Necros didn't carry anything like that.

But still.

Completely. Naked.

"Leave please," and now he could catch the insanity, the lemons and citrus of fear, and none of the apples and rain or even charcoal in the air drifting around him. "She wishes to be alone and crazy by herself."

Still growling, mainly on principle, because his blood had run cold when he had put together the pieces of what she was saying into the whole of what he knew of her past so far, Riddick dumped her bloody and crusted clothes in a heap and stalked out of the head.

He was in the cockpit when she finished about ten minutes later, going over the various screens and trying to figure out what the buttons and toggles meant. He smelt her first, a wash of apples and rain, the astringent smell of the insanity lingering, and over all, soap. He kept his back to the hall and waited for her to pass in a rush of pattering bare feet and thumping heartbeat. No fear though. That was good.

The shower was good too. He didn't mind being covered in blood and gore as a general rule, so long as he had a chance to get rid of it at some point. And considering that the water was hot and soap right there, he counted himself lucky. There'd been some slams he'd been in where clean just meant you had less grime on you than the guy next to you. Something chimed at him a few minutes in, and the water started getting colder. He growled, but finished as fast as he could. Made sense he guessed, limited water supply and all. Didn't mean he had to like it. Just one more thing wrong with his day.

A lack of towels topped the list. How had he not thought to look for something to dry off with? Riddick stood in the middle of the head, dripping wet, and snarled to himself. River. Her fault. If he hadn't been so wrapped up in his head, thinking of her and how messed up she was, it would have occurred to him that he had no fucking way to get dry and no fucking idea of where to find a towel. Still growling, he hit the button for the outer door and braced himself, hoping the girl wasn't going to be around. It'd be just want he needed, an untouchable woman running shrieking from his naked self. Cherry on the fucking day.

Instead, he nearly tripped over a pile of cloth and only just managed to catch himself before he tipped over. Frowning, he knelt to take a closer look. It was a towel. Sitting on top of a stack of dark clothing that he guessed was the closest thing to his size he was going to find on this boat. A faint yell of "You owe her," came out of one of the bunks and he chuckled to himself before gathering the bundle up and stepping back into the relative safety of the head.

**Author's Note**: I'm baaaaack! Another chapter come and gone. Necros and Reavers out of the picture…or are they? Just gonna hafta see ;) This was a lot of fun, writing this one, but it was also tough. Keeping track of who is where and how they're positioned when they fight has my mind spinning sometimes. Hope I got the information across all right. And I have to say, Riddick is too much fun to torture. He doesn't take the abuse with any sort of grace at all either. That said, please please please _**read and review**__._ I thrive off them, check the story management page obsessively to see who's been in and who's left me wonderful nuggets of love!

River, Firefly, Serenity are all © Whedon. Riddick is © Tuohy, the Wheat brothers, Universal Studios, and Vin Diesel. Dangit annyways.

On to the mutual lovings!

Rachet: I love you! Love hearing from you over and over. And yes, I just gave a textbook cliffhanger in that last chapter. But hey, resolutions here right? Right? Ya.

Shenandoah76209: I'm trying to keep River understandable, but you're right, her character tends to lend itself to mass confusion. But the more these two get to know each other, the more they'll translate for each other. And yes, poor man. Like I said above, I'm having far too much fun torturing him. XD

Lizziebug: Thanks so much! Hope you continue reading! Looking forward to hearing more from you!

Tuuna: This is a fun match isn't it? I wish Vin Diesel and Summer Glau would do a movie together. Fangasms everywhere! Hope you keep liking it!

Translations:

_fong luh_-crazy

_Liou coe shway duh biao tze huh hoe tze duh ur tze_- Stupid son of a drooling whore and a monkey

_ni zi-_little girl

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this. Fiery death!


	7. Chapter 7

Ch. 7

_What big eyes you have  
The kind of eyes that drive wolves mad  
Just to see that you don't get chased  
I think I oughta walk with you for a ways_

**"**L'il Red Riding Hood" Amanda Seyfried

He found her in the infirmary, sitting cross legged on the single bed, hands palm down on her knees. The air was full of apples and rain and charcoal, but thankfully none of that unidentified scent that seemed to signal her willingness to kill anything that looked at her sideways. There was a tray on the counter to her left, full of bandages, tape, tubes of some sort of ointment, and a bottle of what he guessed was disinfectant. She'd bandaged up most of her superficial wounds, leaving only a couple of deeper bites and a gash over her shoulder seeping blood. There was a luminescence to her skin that made him think she was paler than usual, but her breathing was steady and her heartbeat regular, so she couldn't have been too bad off. He took a moment just to look, letting the fact that they'd made it off the Necromonger ship and away from the Reavers sink in.

"Others will come," she murmured. "They look already. They never stop coming." Her voice wavered, but her scent didn't change and neither did her breathing. Her heart rate had picked up a bit though. "Already they look for the Hound. Been notified that the captain had caught someone of interest." She lifted her hands and turned them over. "Which of the Tams? Or one of her crew? How useful would the captive have been if the ship hadn't been lost?" Now she opened her eyes and he caught a hitch in her breathing. "No avoiding them completely. Will have to be dealt with like the last pair. Except it is unlikely she can get them behind the engine and fry them again. They will be both more cautious and more confident." She shut her eyes again and hummed. "You should leave her first chance you get. They will take you too. And if they don't vivisect you, they will attack your ears till they bleed. All blood. Every place a body can bleed."

Riddick snorted and moved over to the assortment of first aid gear. "Mind telling me what makes you think any of that is true?"

She shrugged and he could feel the movement against his back, the infirmary was that small. "Limited precogniscience. She hears the river. It flows through her. Brings her voices. Mind calculates based on known quantities and variables. Probabilities figured, discarded. Clarity brought to bear. Likeliest course known."

That made him stop for a moment, hands wrapped up in bandages as he tried to untangle the words. "You see the future? Or you calculate the probability of future occurrences?"

She sighed and turned behind him. He felt her lift her leg, heard it as it brushed against his shoulder, fabric to skin; and looked to the side to see it come down next to his arm. The other leg bracketed him on the other side, and then a small hand was reaching over his shoulder to take the bandage he'd been trying to get around his upper arm and finish the job. Pinning it in place, she held out the other hand, braced on his shoulder, and pointed. "Tape please."

He handed it to her, and held still as she finished taping the bandage in place. She'd braided her hair back, but still brought her scent with her when she leaned over his shoulder. Apples and rain. He'd never thought they'd smelt so good, separately or together. A tiny bit of charcoal, which he figured was par for the course when she was talking riddles. And vanilla. Warm, spiced. Like standing in front of a fire and knowing the cold was outside. Her heart rate was picking up, slowly but steadily. She finished what she was doing and leaned over just a little further. He could feel her breasts against his back, small but firm. Her fingers were tracing the bite mark on his shoulder and he twitched involuntarily as they grazed across his skin. Her heart rate spiked, then dropped again, and vanilla bloomed in the air, drowning out the charcoal and making inroads on the apples.

Something clicked in his head.

"Fuck," he breathed.

"She will not," the girl replied, yanking back.

He spun and pinned her legs to his sides before she could pull those away too. "But you want to. All over your scent and you know it."

She didn't try to reclaim her legs, but the look she was giving him made him suddenly glad she didn't have a shiv. She snorted. "Can hear you. Doesn't need a blade." And she curled a fist and examined it as if seeing it for the first time. "Cannot stop the fist without releasing the legs. Release the legs and she will leave. Will no longer feel her around you." She glared at him. "Which he has wanted longer than she has smelt of vanilla."

He chuckled, and was pleased to hear the thump of her heart tick upward again. She shivered, just a bit, and he ran his palms up her legs to her hips and wrapped his fingers around them. "Beautiful," he murmured, leaning forward. "Never met a girl who could keep up like you do. Kill like I've never seen."

She was trying to inch back, but there wasn't really any space left on the bed for her to go. "Nice words. But she sees in your head. Still planning to leave. Don't like cages. Don't want ties."

That brought him up short, and he stared at her through the goggles as his mind chewed through the implications of her statement. She was right. He didn't want to be chained down. Being connected to him got people killed, and he was tired of looking out for them. All the way back to that first girl and the General, he'd been trouble for those around him. Better to go it alone, stay alive, stay free. Sure money said that it wouldn't be any different in this set of solar systems than it had been in the last. She'd been right earlier when she'd said that the authorities would take one look at him and throw him in the slam. He wasn't cuddly, he wasn't gentle, and he didn't make people comfortable.

He tilted his head, watching her eyes move. They tracked rapidly from side to side, as if she were reading at high speeds. Her face had gone still, and her heart rate settled, although her scent was still strong in the air. "Wouldn't have to be ties," he said, more to see what her reaction would be than anything. His animal was snarling at him, and he knew he was lying even as he said it. But he'd cut ties before. He could do it again.

"Lies," she hissed. "There are already ties. That would cement them." He opened his mouth and she clapped a hand over it. "No. She knows. She knows of sex and _sex_. Knows of fucking and making love" She paused and flinched as she caught the mental images that had brought up in his head. "_Ge ge_ and the Kaylee girl like the engine room. Companion has many ties, built by money paid her for services rendered. Now she warms the Captain's bed for free, for love. But ties are there and she calls on them in need. Stone woman with a heart sits in the bridge and stares at the pilot's seat and remembers loving there." She leaned in close, eyes hot with fury. "The river brought it all to her. She can't _not_ hear. Even the man alone in his bunk with skin mags and a case of baby oil. Her education has been forced and she swore she would _never_ gain experience unless the other was willing to tie himself to her." Her fingers were claws in his cheek as her hand clenched, and she shook his head slightly. "The _hwoon dahn_ does not want ties. She wishes him to be free if that is what he chooses. Will not cage the jaguar against its will." His animal was roaring, saying that it most defiantly _was_ its will. The man aimed a kick at it. And just like that she was laughing again. "Nor will she chain the man, as stupid as he is being." Her head tilted to the side, opposite the direction he'd tipped his, and she grinned suddenly. "Besides, he has never taken a woman unwilling, and isn't about to start now."

Riddick growled, a low rumble that worked its way up and out of his chest so slowly he could feel it vibrating his bones. She was right, fuck her. He'd never forced himself on anyone. And for all of what her scent was saying to the contrary, he knew that her words were what she'd hold herself to. Crazy woman.

She snorted and let go of his face. "It's a popular theory. She is indeed broken. And it is true. Words are what matter when thought and scent can change so quickly. Betray so easily."

He laughed. He couldn't help it. The frustration in her voice matched his own, and the look on her face was that of a cat that had just been dropped in a pond. Pissed as fuck, and mainly at herself and her body for giving her away. She glared at him and let him laugh for a moment before poking him in the shoulder, right next to the bite mark he'd forgotten about. "Needs stitches. Give her the bottle of disinfectant and the tray please."

And just like that, he'd sobered up. "No."

She glared at him. "She knows what she's doing. _Ge ge_ is surgeon. She learned from him. Has been helping stitch up the crew for years now. "

He eyed her skeptically, but nothing in her scent smelled of lies, and the vanilla was receding. Apples and rain took over, and even as she crossed her arms and huffed in irritation, he had to admit that it would be nice to have things taken care of properly for once. Provided she could do the job at all.

She snarled and poked him in the shoulder again. "The tray, please and thank you. And keep your insults to yourself."

Still chuckling, he reached around and grabbed the tray. Things looked to be getting even more entertaining.

River sat at the table in the galley, feet propped up on a chair opposite her and crossed at the ankles. One hand near her stomach, the other elbow resting on the table. Her head lolled along the back of the chair she was in, hair falling in a curtain behind her, as she closed her eyes and listened for the river. It was softer here, this far away from people. Some of the voices were just indistinct murmurs. Others were loud enough she could make out words, here and there at least. The clearest were those she'd met in person, or those with strong intentions. At the moment she was listening for a set of voices that matched both criteria. She knew they were out there. She hadn't been able to hear them before over the screaming of the Painwalkers, but she knew they were out there.

And not here.

The better part of a week had passed since she and the Riddick had escaped. The _Hound_ was holding up well, and the greatest worry at the moment was actually food. Not for lack, but for taste. She never had been able to get packets of powdered protein to resemble anything edible. Her one failing. She took comfort in the fact that her _ge ge_ was worse than she was. She'd refused to show the jaguar anything in the kitchen beyond what the shiny packets were and the basic theory of using them. He'd laughed, but she noticed that he'd shied away from them as well. Luckily enough there were plenty of canned goods, and even some prefab meals in the order of add-hot-water-and-let-sit-then-stir. They would come to the end of those in a few days though, and then it would be time to truly embarrass herself.

River sighed and shut her mind to thoughts of the man. He was dreaming in his bunk, of jungles and a stern faced woman with feathers braided into her hair. It was loud, and she dove back into the river again to avoid having to think on him.

But half her attention stayed on the ship, instead of out in the stars where it should have been. She cursed to herself, but let it be. Better she have some warning of when he came stalking her. He always came stalking her. It wasn't quite a hunt, because she refused to run. It wasn't quite a game, because there was no way to keep score. She wasn't sure what to call it. But it was happening.

It had started a day or so after the talk in the infirmary. She'd been waiting, meditating in her bunk. Avoiding him. She knew the truth in his words, just as he knew the truth in his. What he didn't know how she questioned herself. Was what she felt, the strength of it, just the result of the fact that she'd _never_ before met a man she was attracted to? Or was it real? The girl was crying, wanting what he offered. The weapon was looking at the fact that from day one, he'd never treated her like a child. Treated her like a lunatic yes, but she had acted like a lunatic. She'd felt what he thought as he watched her fight, and as he fought alongside her. He'd seen a girl, a woman, whatever she was, who didn't fear him. True, sometimes he thought she was too crazy to fear him, but he'd appreciated that she didn't stink of lemons and oranges around him. Tickled his nose. Made him want to sneeze, at least in combination with her other scents. The weapon also pointed out that he had trusted her, to a degree. Listened when she told him what needed to be done to save them. The girl was remembering how he'd scented her that in the Painwalker infirmary. How he'd come looking for her in the air ducts and then left her alone when she didn't prove a threat. So many actions and reactions. But over it all she remembered feeling his driving need to be _free_. All his past ties had ended in pain. How could she repay the trust he'd given by expecting him to chain himself to her?

So she'd waited till the dead of night, gathering her mind and making herself as sane as she could before stretching out and heading for the cargo bay. Kyra's coffin had been moved to the edge of the room, the pit in front of the infirmary covered over. He must have done that sometime while she was in her bunk that day. All the better then.

She'd taken a couple running steps and leapt, straight into _The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy_. She had the music memorized, it played in her head as she turned, stepped, twisted. It was harder, not having the proper shoes, and the open grating of the cargo bay deck threatened to take her toes off a time or two, but it felt good. It felt right, to be moving like this. She knew she was graceful, knew she danced as much as fought. But this, this was her past. Before the Academy and their needles and knives. This was who she had been meant to be, a free spirit with the worlds at her beck and call. Theoretical physicist by day, prima ballerina by night. Why shouldn't she have had it? She'd been a genius after all. Still was in fact, with a few added bonuses and a great many more pieces missing out of the puzzle. She comforted herself with the fact that even though she didn't have an audience or a place to publish papers she could still, for a few moments, be the old River.

Except she did have an audience. He'd come on cat feet, breathing quiet, to see what had happened to the presence of the girl who'd spent most of two days in her bunk. It had been the lack of heartbeat that had woken him. Quiet as it had been, his animal had noticed when it was gone. So he'd tracked her out here, smelling apples and rain, a bit of cool water, a little mint for flavor. Now, silk was what she smelled, fed to her brain by his animal as starlit eyes watched her from the corridor. The animal was pleased, and nuzzled her behind the metaphorical ear before settling back on its haunches to watch and pass along its impressions. She'd faltered, just slightly, at that, and the man had tensed. What he had planned to do if she fell she didn't know, and she didn't want to know where it could lead. So she'd pretended not to notice him, finished the piece, and launched straight into another.

This had no name. Bits from this and bits from that. A whirling dervish of movement as her weapon-self sought to drive out the girl and the girl clung to sanity. The river had flowed then and she'd taken it, pulled it into herself, and used it to merge the two halves of her broken soul. The man had been forgotten, the jaguar a warm fuzzy presence in the back of her mind, his rumbling purr giving the time to her steps. She danced till her legs shook and the rest of her muscles burned. She had stubbed her toes, twisted her ankle slightly at one point, and scraped her feet on the grating until the red shoes were no longer metaphors in her mind, but a bloody reality. And still she danced. She couldn't not. There was no one to criticize her, only four voices in her head; and the joy of having complete freedom of movement without having to worry about judgment for the first time in years had made her drunk on the feeling. She didn't want to stop. To stop meant she'd go back to being broken; being cracked down the middle with both halves pulling for a goal she that knew would break her heart if she let it. He would leave, and she would do everything in her power to make it possible. She was experiencing freedom now. What right had she to take his?

And then he'd been there, one arm wrapping around her middle, the other blocking the strike she made for his head. Had she been dancing? Or fighting shadows? Even in the present tense, the girl wasn't sure. The weapon said that it didn't matter what it was called, it was all battle. But at that moment silver eyes had met hers and she'd felt her legs go out from under her as the pain in her feet caught up with her nervous system. He'd caught her as she fell, one arm under her legs and the other behind her back, and carried her back to her bunk. He only stopped long enough to set her on the counter in the infirmary and gather up some supplies. She'd sat, glassy eyed with exhaustion and her muscles quivering even as they burned with slow fire. Stupid. Stupid girl. What had possessed her?

She hadn't worked out an answer before he'd scooped her up again with one arm, piled the bandages and other assorted gear onto her belly, and hooked the other arm under her legs. She had managed to get a hand up to steady the pile, but she didn't anything left in her beyond that. The jaguar had wrapped itself around her mind, still purring, and laid its tail over her thighs. The man's mind had wandered through many different thoughts, and she knew instinctively that he was choosing them carefully, the better to keep her from knowing what was going on beneath the surface. She wanted to tell him he didn't need to bother. She'd caught it all from the river and the jaguar. His animal was betraying his better interests, but she wasn't about to tell him so. It was a fight he'd have to have with himself.

He didn't speak the entire time he cleaned and bandaged her feet, and she didn't try to make him. She knew her scent was mixed, the silk gone now; apples and rain buried under blood and sweat and the malt of exhaustion. She'd held what needed held, lifted her feet and legs when his hands and mind told her to, and generally let herself be taken care of. She had known that she'd be going barefoot for the rest of the trip. Shoes weren't worth the trouble anyways. This was just a good excuse, to her mind at least. He thought she had a death wish, and he wasn't far wrong sometimes. But she hadn't wanted to break the comfortable silence. For once they weren't fighting, mocking each other, or wanting things not mentioned in polite company. She snorted at the memory. Her _ge ge_ was the only polite company she knew these days anyways, and the river told her she had a niece or nephew coming as the result of his goings on with the Kaylee girl. Polite company indeed.

Even after he was done she'd sat there, still swaying slightly, feeling the purr of the jaguar; and the chanting of the weapon was telling her that now that her feet were bound, she could probably manage a few more measures of dance. As if he'd caught the thought somehow, though she knew nothing had changed in her scent, he'd placed his hands on her knees and pressed down. She could read the threats he'd carry out if she tried a stunt like the one she'd been half planning, and all unbidden, she'd giggled. He'd frowned, and opened his mouth to growl something at her, and as much as she loved to hear his voice wash over her, she'd placed a finger on his lips. "She promises. She will attempt to let her feet heal."

He'd growled and subsided then, and the jaguar had flicked an ear and huffed in amusement. A gentle shove to her shoulder had sent her flopping over backwards onto the bed, and she hadn't found it in her to fight. There was no want in his mind, no need. Just the intent that she rest, let her feet and legs heal so that she could pull more crazy shit like that at a later date. He'd enjoyed the show. She'd snorted and squirmed back into the bed, ignoring the rush of blood that set off in his nether regions and the images the jaguar sent her, and wrapped herself up in a blanket. He'd waited a moment, then left, pausing a moment in the door to let his ungoggled eyes run over her body one last time before returning to his bunk. She'd waited a beat, another, and then slipped out of bed and stretched again. Limping she'd be the next day, but not crippled. She'd fallen asleep with her feet spread wide; her torso stretched flat in front of her, arms reaching for her heels. Luckily, he hadn't caught her like that the next morning.

They didn't need many words. He responded to the changes in her scent and heartbeat, she skimmed the surface of his thoughts and sometimes passed things on to the jaguar. Occasionally it seemed as if the jaguar passed them on to the man, as he handed her a part she hadn't said she needed, or understanding of a symbol or character came just a little quicker. She was cramming as much knowledge of the bridge into him as she could, trying to prepare them both for the day she dropped him somewhere populated. Every once in a while he thought of trying to take the _Hound_ from her and going off on his own, but the words she'd said to him before about needing two to fly tended to cut that line of thought off while still in bud form. She'd told the truth, but strictly speaking, he could have managed it alone. So long as he wasn't being chased, or having issues with reentry of an atmosphere, or any of a hundred problems that would require hands in the engine room and hands in the bridge.

As a consequence, she'd taught him and he'd learned. They ate prepackaged meals and canned food mostly cold. And his mind was exceptional. Weeks of the aforementioned time awake in cryo meant that he'd had the option of going crazy or keeping it in order. The animal had helped, for sure, but the man had had an equal part in it, and the wonder wrought between them was a balm to be near. He'd a great deal of time in space, but it was usually stationary, not able to move around and keep the body as busy as the mind. When he had dragged the weight bench out to the center of the hold on the third day, she'd laughed, patted him on the shoulder, and gone to fetch some athletic tape she'd found in one of the empty bunks. He'd taken it with a raised eyebrow and she had shrugged, telling him there was a punching bag in that bunk as well and he would probably need the tape. He'd shrugged and started wrapping his knuckles and she'd left him to it. They kept it dark in the public areas of the ship, just light enough that she wouldn't trip over something with her stiff feet, and she had wanted to draw.

So she sat in her bunk with the light on while he worked out his excess energy on the weights and then pulled the punching bag out and hung it from a beam. She didn't want her scent to give her away, watching the play of muscles in his arms and shoulders, and she hoped the longer she stayed out of sight the better he would forget that she wasn't nearby. It wasn't comfortable, living like this with the said and unsaid between them, but they'd manage somehow. She was just surprised he hadn't resorted to Jayne measures to keep his libido down, but then again, that would have meant she'd get the brunt of whatever went through his head in the process, so she chose to just be grateful instead.

Eventually though she'd wandered down to the bay and sat on a bench near the weapons locker. If she was going to let this man go, even if what she was feeling wasn't forever, she was going to get an eyeful while she could. Something in the rhythm of his punches had spoken to her, and without thinking about it, she'd started calling time, using flight deck terms instead of numbers. He'd stopped, surprised, and she'd shoved a mental image of what she wanted at the jaguar. It had snorted, amused at the idea of the animal helping teach human things, but agreed. After a moment, the man seemed to catch on and after a brief nod had returned to the bag. She had drilled him in terminology, and he'd replied back with English translations, or the appropriate response to the situation, or whatever button needed to be hit next, and between the physical exertion and the mental, they'd both managed to ignore the smell of vanilla in the air.

The pattern of their days had been set after that. She did slow katas instead of dancing at night; he watched her, checked her feet and rebandaged them with clinical impersonality. She would meditate in her room or draw, and then drill him in flight protocols while he beat the _go se_ out of the punching bag during the day. Sometimes she'd find him seated next to the coffin, a portable cortex screen in his hand and lips moving silently. She never stayed in the bay then. It felt like intruding. He never commented on it. Nonetheless, she wouldn't let him actively fly the ship, however much he learned. They were on a set course with a limited fuel supply and no leeway for experimentation.

But this night, she'd been frustrated. He was dreaming. A memory of another dream or a current one she wasn't sure. But it had woken her, and she had come down to the galley to try and put it out of her mind. Stupid to be jealous of the hold the woman in the dream had on him. Just plain stupid. She gave the unopened whiskey bottle on the table a little shove with a finger and sighed before dropping back into the river again. Wandering thoughts did not help her find the voices she sought.

How long she'd sat there she did not know. But she found the voices and nearly wept at the pain in them. How she longed to reach out with physical arms and touch them, tell them she still lived. She sat instead, and listened as they dreamed in images of death and sorrow. Even the little one knew something was terribly wrong on her home, and dreamed of great darknesses that reached up to swallow her. Her cries brought the mother, a smooth voice of velvet and steel that whispered and comforted as she wrapped a blanket around the little body and brought her to the galley. The man with a girl's name was there, guitar in his lap, a mute clipped around the neck, and a bottle of whiskey sitting on the table. River's lips twitched and she knew suddenly why she sat as she did. The guitar was a fine thing, tiger maple and ebony. Mother of pearl inlay and pegs. The strings were new, and tuned just so. His fingers ran over the frets and plucked at the strings, quiet as could be, until he noticed that he had company. Kicking out a free chair, he shifted so his legs weren't in the way of them sitting down, then stood to go dig in the pantry. A few moments later he came back with a cup of some pureed fruit and a bitty spoon and the woman gave him a wry smile. Big tough merc, he groused, and picked his guitar back up.

A shift in the air around her nearly jolted the girl out of the river. She held still and clung to the current, bringing her hands up in mimicry of the man's in an effort to help keep her mind in that far distant room, not the dark empty galley her body was stuck in. She reached, and wrapped a tendril of thought around the minds of those in the room before opening her eyes to meet glinting silver orbs not ten inches from her own. The Riddick tilted his head and his nostrils flared as he tried to figure out her scent. She wasn't in the mood to enlighten him and say that when charcoal and fire mixed she was really only present in body and that her mind was, quite literally, wandering. Instead she moved her hands, one over her stomach, plucking and strumming at invisible strings; while the other splayed over frets and changed the notes as needed. It wasn't a song with a name. He was playing something vaguely like a lullaby he'd heard as a child, as the woman fed the little girl and rocked in time to the music.

When the Riddick reached for her hands she gave a little lunge and snapped her teeth at him. "Leave be," she whispered. "The girl flows with the river and finds her crew. Man with a girl's name has received proof of forgiveness and plays now for the child to sleep and dream of stars instead of all consuming darkness." She jerked her head at the whiskey bottle. "Drink if you must. Forget about jungles full of headstones, _gwon nee ju jee du shu,_but leave the girl."

He curled a lip and growled at her, but didn't try to touch her again. Neither did he reach for the whiskey. Instead he sat in the chair at the head of the table and folded those long fingered hands beneath his chin. She closed her eyes and ignored him. The child was quieting and so too was the music. Finally his fingers moved, but only to have something to do. The strings were silent, and his thoughts turned from the child asleep in her mother's lap to another girl child. Woman. Crazy. They still hadn't found hide or hair of her, and every contact Inara or any of the rest had been able to scare up said she'd dropped out of the 'Verse. He was a tracker with nothing to track, and it was ticking him off something fierce. The Captain had turned all sorts of violent lately; the Doc had started wanting to learn to shoot. Nigh on five years in the black and the pretty boy finally wanted to learn to handle a gun. Better late than never the man supposed, but what the Doc would _do _with the knowledge was a thing that didn't sit well on the brain. The woman across from him was still a solid rock, the one you tied off to when you started drifting and lucky for them all the Captain still listened when she put her foot down. Between her and Inara they had him fairly well managed, and had kept him from getting them all shot or blown up countless times since they'd started their hunt. He wished for a moment for Wash, or Book, or even better, both. As much as the pilot had annoyed him he'd made Zoe smile, and even now, years later, she didn't crack the façade for anyone but Sierra. Losing the Moonbrain had just made it worse. As for Book? Well the man knew things. Things no Shepherd should know. Had a way of telling it to a man straight too, and a good spotter for the weights. Damn shame he weren't around.

River didn't realize she'd been speaking until she caught the jerk of the Riddick's head and the narrowing of his eyes as transmitted to her by the jaguar. The intrusion shook her out of the river and she sighed as she let her hands drop into stillness again. The man across from her had his hands flat on the table and was rising slowly, carefully, as if she were an animal about to bolt. She snorted at the mental image and laid her head back on the headrest. "Apologies. She swims the river. Found her crew." And now something was tightening in her chest and she clenched her hands together in memory. "They scour the stars and court death to find her. No trail to track. No scent, nor footprints. No snags of cloth on conveniently broken branches." The thing in her chest was tightening further and she swallowed hard. "They will kill themselves looking."

The Riddick rumbled without words and sat back down. "That so," he said finally. His voice was flat, but his mind was saying it was too soon, too soon. The man hadn't resigned himself to giving her up just yet, and the animal didn't want to give her up at all. He was keeping himself in the chair by strength of will alone, and one wrong move from her would see the animal winning, table flying and those arms carrying her to his bunk, never to be let go again. River allowed herself a moment to dream of it, to pretend it would be the thing she could allow, and she was gifted with a draft of warm vanilla crawling like lava down her spine. Cursing to herself, she placed the image she'd found of her _ge ge _and Kaylee in the forefront of her mind and the disgust effectively wiped out the vanilla. She never needed to see her brother like that. It reminded her that he was human.

The Riddick stiffened when her scent changed, and she wanted to explain that it wasn't him, but it was in an oblique way, and it was better this way anyhow. So instead she raised her head and looked him in the eye. "Will have to contact them sooner than previously thought, if only to keep them from doing something monumentally stupid."

He snorted and reached for the whiskey bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a long pull. "That so?" He was trying not to let his anger at her sudden change in scent show in his body or voice, but his mind was shoving it at her. His resolve to leave had just strengthened, and while part of her was grateful, the other part wanted to throw herself at him in apology. Sternly, she sat on both parts. He was his own; she could not ask him to change for her. He had not asked it of her after all.

That forced her mind down another path, a difference current, and suddenly she wanted to run. Run to her bunk, run to the bridge and turn the ship around, anything to get away. The fear bloomed in her, and the air took on lemons and limes and all manner of citrus fruit as she sat glassy eyed and panting. It had been a trickle of thought, triggered in memory by the mental image of Simon. Cotton and wool, mind tied up with the body. What had happened to her, he wondered. Was she ok? Was she still stable? Would she be even the River of the last few years if they ever found her again? They would find her. They had to find her. And once she was found, he'd do everything in his power to keep her from getting taken again.

Everything.

Her skull bounced when it hit the deck. She didn't even have it in her to squawk, so surprised was she. The man was up and around the table before she'd even landed, and one of her flailing arms caught him behind the knee. He let the accidental motion carry him to the floor as he knelt and reached for her shoulders. No! Not what she needed. Not more protection and worry! With a hoarse cry she curled in on herself and toppled sideways, away from him and under the table. She could feel tears rising and wanted to stop them, but she'd been holding back for _so_ long, couldn't she have this one thing? This moment?

And then he was there again, dragging the chair away and crouching to reach under the table. He wouldn't fit; she could see it in his mind, so he pulled her out as gently as he could. His mind was saying the words he refused to speak and she couldn't answer. Couldn't do anything but shake and sob and chant "_Wuoshang mayer, maysheen, byen shr to,_" through a broken soul. Muscled arms rearranged her across his legs, and she could feel his jaguar in her mind. It had dropped out of the tree where it had been watching the precedings and paced over to her like she was prey and not a girl. She did her best to ignore it, hands over her ears so she couldn't hear the angry rumble of the man's voice. She could feel it though, down to her bones, and she wondered at the fact that they weren't melting. The jaguar stopped just out of arm's reach, crouching more than sitting, and she knew she should be bracing herself for whatever was coming; but her mind wouldn't stay put long enough to process any more than that. She was in Serenity's infirmary, crazy and drugged. She was in the Academy, needles in her brain and in her eyes. She was in a cryo box, listening to the screams of strangers as they were eaten alive. She was everywhere but the present and in every place she was she was not free to do as she wished. She was prisoner, no matter where she went and what she did.

Her head bounced again, this time from a metaphysical swat instead of a physical landing, and her vision cleared just enough to show her the jaguar standing over her, breath hot in her face and teeth bared, demanding that she _get up_. Pull her mind together and get the fuck up before the man did something truly drastic. She scrambled backwards, but ran into the tree. The one jungle tree in an open empty place, rich in scents but spare in everything else. The big cat followed her, one huge paw in front of the other, and when she ran out of room to try and get away it reared back and raised another forepaw in readiness.

River shot forward, cracking her skull against a very _hard_ forehead, and she cried out, clutching at it. The Riddick jerked back before he could get brained again or clawed by her hands and nearly dropped her in the process. She wavered, tipped, and was gathered back up again as her balance started to go. Panting, she pressed an ear to the landslide in his chest and clutched at his arms for support. They tightened infinitesimally before loosening and turning her so she could meet his eyes. "What the fuck," he muttered, and she wanted to giggle at the confusion on his face and in his head. "The fuck was that all about?"

She stiffened and nearly lost herself in the river again as her short term memory caught up with her. The jaguar lifted an experimental paw and she threw herself back into the present. The scent of lemons was still in the air, along with charcoal and steel. That surprised her, until she thought it through. Of course she'd been angry. Her _ge ge _ wanted to wrap her up like a doll again, dose her at the slightest hint of instability, and generally treat her the way he had that first year after he'd gotten her out. She'd needed it then, at least some of it, but since the Miranda wave went out and the pea had been taken from her pile of mattresses, she'd been much better. It had taken screaming and fighting and the threat of leaving forever, but she'd eventually gotten him to wean her off of most of the drugs and had been using mainly meditation and the occasional hormone therapy to keep herself on an even keel ever since. But he feared what the capture would have done to her and was fully prepared to lock her in her bunk if need be.

Her lips lifted in a silent snarl. That wasn't what she needed. What she needed was for someone to take her at face value and, if all else failed; hit her over the head to knock her out of the fits.

The jaguar huffed a laugh. The man rumbled something at it, but she didn't quite catch what was said. She could guess though.

The Riddick was still waiting for his answer, patiently too, all things considered. River took a deep breath, then another before finally speaking. "Cotton and wool. Like a china doll." His face twisted in confusion and she took another breath to sort out her words. "Girl found the crew. Found her _ge ge_. He plans to do anything._ Anything_ to get his _mei mei_ back. And keep her." Another breath, and her fingers clenched, nails biting into his arms. "Plans to do anything needful to keep her. Keep her safe and sane. Forgets that she'll never be entirely sane. Forgets she did fine these past three years, two months and fifteen days. Forgets she talked him into weaning her off the psych drugs, and replacing hormones the brain can't produce as a substitute." She stared up at him, at the stars taken down from the sky and set in the face of a killer. Who else's face should they be set in? Who had paid for them in blood? "Is back to thinking of her as the mostly helpless lunatic he rescued." She shook her head and looked down, even as he shifted her into a slightly more comfortable position. The jaguar yawned and lay down in front of her.

The man tilted his head to one side and lifted a hand to run through her hair and examine her skull for bumps. She heard it in his mind when he found the needle marks instead, and the scar at the base of her skull. Rage roared through him, even though he'd already known some of what had been done. She cried out as his fingers clenched involuntarily and managed to get the forming goose egg right on the nose. He let go, growling under his breath, and she relaxed slightly. "She does not…" she couldn't finish the sentence. Speaking meant she couldn't take it back. Words were like stones. Solid, immovable. Say them and a person was committed. And the girl suddenly had no idea what she truly wanted.

"She doesn't what?" She could hear it in his voice. He had guessed. His mind was working through the possibilities, and the jaguar was offering suggestions. She shuddered a little bit. Things happened when the man and his animal agreed. Momentous things. She had a sudden vision of herself wrapped in steel and blood instead of wool and cotton and nearly cracked her head open again trying to get out of his grip. He growled and reached for her, but she'd gotten over the chair, under the table, and to her feet on the other side faster than he'd have thought possible. He lunged, the rumble in his chest more animal than man, but she was out the door and down the hall before he'd finished shoving the table to the side. She couldn't run very well on her torn feet though, and he caught her just outside her bunk, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her around to pin her against the wall with his bulk. "She doesn't _what_," he growled again, and he could feel him hot and hard against her hip and could smell the vanilla rising in the air around her.

"She doesn't _know_!" River clenched her eyes shut and turned her head away so she wouldn't lean forward and up into that snarling mouth. "She doesn't know what she will do!" Her hand was scrabbling behind her and she shifted her hips to distract him from what she was doing. It was nearly her undoing as well as he groaned and dropped his head to her neck, lips grazing the skin at the edge of her tank top as he pressed his length against her. She gasped and nearly rolled her hips again. The jaguar was far too pleased with itself, and her weapon half was looking on with increasing interest. The girl found what she was looking for and slapped the button for the door. It slid open behind her and she toppled backwards shoulder first as she twisted and pulled out of his grip. She completed the turn, hitting the lock on the interior side and dodging his outstretched hand as he tried to get to her before the door closed on his arm. He was snarling, and she wept as she backed away towards the bed, flinching when he punched the wall outside and roared at her. Still crying, she crawled into her bed, wrapped herself in the blankets, and prayed to be made stone.

**Author's Note**: I love you all! Love logging in and seeing the count of followers go up, the favorites count, the view count. Love it! Love that people are seeing this. Now if only more of you would tell me what you thought…. XD

Ok. They're not mine. Firefly/Serenity is © Whedon. Riddick and his homelands are © Universal, Tuohy, the Wheat Brothers, Vin, take your pick. Their toys, I'm just borrowing them. Cause they're so much fun!

Getting into some of the really fun stuff now, at least for me. River and Riddick, stuck along on a ship for who knows how long. Nothing could go wrong right? Right? Hah! I'm going to be using the jaguar/man mix a lot from now on. It's going to be important, as is the mental picture River builds of their surroundings in her head. And I plan to keep the UST coming for a while. Lots more fun that way. Hmm…Had a lot that I wanted to say as I edited this. It's all gone now. Gah! So, onward!

Shenandoah76209: Hey hey! So glad to see you again! River know's he's a guy. Guys don't usually think with their brains I've noticed. Not even Riddick is immune. It's not so much what he's thinking with as it is him watching her the same way the people in the Academy did. And yeah, I love it when she loses her temper with him. Less of that in this one though. More later!

Rachet: Glad you love it! I liked writing that part (the sword). I'm trying to put humor in this thing while making it believable, and for some reason the fight for a shower just struck me as hilarious.

guineverekay: So touched that you registered! I hope this story keeps living up to expectations and entertaining! Please keep coming! Love to hear from everyone!

I-am-a-slash-addict: Thanks muchly! Glad to see you back. Yeah, I like that line too. Basically, if I can't run it through my head in Riddick/Vin's voice and have it come out sounding believable, I don't like to put it in there. That line, just felt like Riddick. Thanks so much!

Translations:

_Ge ge_: Big brother

_hwoon dah_: Bastard

_Gwon nee ju jee du shui_: Mind your own business

_Wuoshang mayer, maysheen, byen shr_: I will close my ears and my heart and I will be a stone

_mei mei_: sister

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this. Fiery death!


	8. Chapter 8

Ch. 8

_If I traded it all_

_If I gave it all away for one thing_

_Just for one thing_

_If I sorted it out_

_If I knew all about this one thing_

_Wouldn't that be something_

"One Thing", Finger Eleven

Riddick's first thought was to beat down the door. Never mind the fact that it was impossible. It could be done. He would do it. How dare that little witch play with him like that? Did she know who she was fucking with? His animal laughed and told him yes, she knew _exactly_. It only served to enrage him further. How the hell did she do it? How had she crawled inside his skin so thoroughly? The man snarled and slammed his fist into the door again. She may have to come out via the air ducts. He had a suspicion that he'd pulverized the pad that opened the door beyond all repair. Good. Let her realize that there were consequences to playing with him. _He _was the one who played mind games. _He_ was the one who got to sit back and laugh as people tried to sort themselves out and escape.

His animal took offense to that, and shoved several images of the girl huddled in her bed and crying deep into his mind. Along with that he got the scent of her fear earlier, and the look on her face just before she'd toppled over backwards and nearly cracked her skull open. Whatever had happened, the girl was only acting half sane. What had she been doing with her hands anyways?

Growling to himself about crazy little girls, vanilla, and his life in general, Riddick stalked into his bunk, pried the grate out of the ceiling, and climbed up into the air ducts. It was a tight fit, but he'd manage. Nothing looked like it was going to narrow out between his bunk and hers, and the fans weren't anywhere close. He got a good whiff of the ship smells as he went. Dust, metal, lingering bits of old blood that had been missed when the Necros cleaned up. And apples and rain. She was getting into every nook and cranny of this place, and it only got stronger the closer he got to her bunk. But when he shifted the grate aside and dropped down, his senses were assaulted by wet earth, the salt of tears, and lemons. Her heartbeat was fast, her breathing erratic, and she shook like a hype coming off a high under the blankets she'd piled over and around her. She was staring at the wall, and he was starting to smell blood in the air. The angry words he'd been about to yell died in his throat and he found himself standing over her bed, glaring down, without a single reason as to why he should leave. Or be there. He wasn't sure which at this point. All he knew was that he couldn't bring himself to shout at a girl so lost in pain that she was biting her hand bloody.

The room was dim enough, so he pushed up his goggles and pinched the bridge of his nose, searching his mind for the animal inside. He found it deeper down than usual, curled up with its back to him, and was that a person inside the circle of its body? The animal lifted its head and turned to look at him, eyes flashing green and teeth bared before going back to ignoring him. It should have infuriated him. It didn't.

First there was the girl, playing an imaginary instrument and ignoring him after she'd vanished from her room. Then the fit and the subsequent crying and confusion of her sudden realization that her place in the world was not what she thought it was. He knew that look. He'd seen it in the mirror years ago. Just once, but he'd seen it. It was the loss of everything known, no matter how horrible the known was, and the feeling of being cast adrift. He'd sworn he'd never let himself be tied to anything again; and until T-2 he'd done a pretty good job at separating himself from the entirety of civilization and all that it implied. Damn Caroline. Damn Imam and damn Jack most of all for dragging him back. For making him care and worry and come back for them. And somehow, through some twisted fucked up maze of decisions that probably had Aereon laughing her Elemental ass off somewhere, he'd ended up here. In the bunk of a sobbing young woman on a ship where he couldn't even read half the writing, trying to figure out the gentlest way to get her to stop chewing on her hand.

He couldn't help it. He laughed. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, face in his hands, he laughed at himself for having been so thoroughly whipped. Where was the Riddick that made men piss themselves? Where was the man who'd left three people in a cave while he hauled the power cells towards the skiff and freedom? Fuck it all, where was the man who'd stared down a hellhound? Not gone maybe, but softened for sure. All because he'd decided to rejoin the human race.

Fuck.

The girl was still crying, locked inside her mind and oblivious to his presence. Blood, tears and wet earth made a bad combination on her. But when he moved to try to pry her hand from her teeth, she merely moaned softly and curled up tighter. He wasn't going to get her to loosen up with anything short of brute force and that was a line he wasn't willing to cross at this point. Sighing, he leaned back against the wall and let his hand rest on her knee as he waited it out. She didn't seem to notice him, and for once he was grateful to be ignored. He hadn't been alone with his thoughts since he'd met her, and it was beyond exhausting, trying to keep a rein on them in case he accidently stumbled over something that sent her into a killing mood. Not that he minded that so much; she was a sight to see, especially when she flew at something with death in her eyes and blades in her hands. Almost made him wish for another pack of Reavers so he could watch her work again. Or for her feet to heal so she could dance again.

That had been a thing of beauty, that first night. He doubted she knew that she'd been more fighting shadows than dancing towards the end, but then again with her there wasn't much difference between the two except intent to kill. And she had that in spades when it was called for. Beautiful was what it was. Was what _she_ was. Fucking beautiful. She had looked better to him covered in the gore of the Reavers that he'd ever imagined possible, and wasn't that an idea for prison psychiatrists to figure out? Not that they'd been able to. Teasing the animal away from the man left them both half a being and the only person he'd ever met who seemed to be able to comprehend either of them was currently crying herself to sleep next to him.

Absently, he rubbed his thumb in small circles over her knee. His animal huffed in amusement, but didn't leave its place, still curled around that shadowy form. He had an inkling of who it was, but he didn't want to think on that too hard. He'd done too much thinking as it was lately.

~H,HYFN~

He came aware of his surroundings sometime later; half formed thoughts of dragging the girl with him instead of letting her drop him somewhere and return to her crew faded to the back of his mind as his animal made him aware of a change in the air. He stilled his breathing and listened. She'd stopped crying. Her breath was deep and even, her scent back to apples and rain and wet earth. A hint of dried blood told him she'd stopped biting her hand and it had started to scab, and he resisted the urge to check. Who knew what she'd do if he woke her? Trying to kill him was a distinct possibility, and he just wasn't in the mood for that. Nor was he in the mood for her to fling herself at him and then cringe away as if she'd just stepped in a pile of shit. _That_ particular shift in scents last night had not helped his control any, and if she pulled a stunt like that on him again…well he didn't know what he'd do, but he'd figure something appropriate. Like drag her all over this new set of star systems and never let her out of his sight again.

His animal growled and he lifted a lip in return. Now what had it pissed? It wanted her even more than him, and if she was having second thoughts about returning to her crew- Abruptly he was assaulted with a wall of images. Him in chains, him in a cage as Johns laughed, Toombs' smug face when he'd caught up on Helion Prime. A string of slams, each their own special brand of hell. A bit in his mouth and cloth wrapped around his eyes. And then they hit him again, this time with the girl in the starring role. It looked wrong. It looked perverse. He wanted to reach in and tear her out, even though he knew it wasn't real. New images came. The girl tied to a chair, screaming as needles were driven into her head. Muttering in Chinese as she tried to press herself into the corner of a bare white room. Pacing a dimly lit room while a man asked her questions and probed for answers.

It took a moment to recover from, and even as he asked his animal where the _Hell_ it had gotten all that from, he was coming to the realization that he wasn't going to be able to _force _her to come with him. In the same way he wouldn't take her body by force, he couldn't take her affection and loyalty either. It grated, to know that somewhere out there was a crew, a _family_ that wanted her back and that she missed. It pissed him off to no end to know that he had a chance of losing death's dancer to a group of people who could never fully appreciate her. If they had, would she have gone off in a fit and started crying? Obviously she missed them, missed them so bad that the thought of never going back to them drove her to the brink of insanity. But if she was expecting to go back to a boat full of cages and chains, even metaphorical ones, wouldn't she be better off with him?

The girl in question muttered and turned over in her sleep, nearly kicking him in the ribs as she moved. He froze and waited for her to stop. Scorpions and darkened coring rooms. A hard enough kick in the right spot and he'd find himself with a punctured lung. Or something. He had no doubt she could do it, and self-preservation had always been high on his list of priorities.

His animal kneaded his mind with its claws and gaped out a grin as the epiphany hit. Riddick cursed. Long, fluently, and in more than one language. No fucking wonder. No wonder she wouldn't let him touch her. No wonder she smelled of want and need at the same time she threatened bodily harm if he tried anything. Cages and chains. Bits in the teeth and needles in the brain. Now he was even thinking like her. Dammit all anyways. All her talk of ties and refusing to chain him had been plain as day if he'd only been listening instead of thinking with his dick and his ego. Her insistence at teaching him everything she could about the ship and its workings, her continual talk of dropping his ass on some populated planet once they were done burying Kyra.

It was the worst blow of the night, and he fought it like he'd fought for his life in the stinking mines of Sigma 3, and later in the slams. He really was better off alone, and the girl knew it. She was trying to give him a fucking chance to take his freedom, fully and completely, in a place where no one was hunting him yet. And all he found himself wanting was to sit next to her and listen to her breathe. To know her heartbeat was close at hand and that she'd try to kill him the next time he said the wrong thing. He'd found his match and all she was trying to do was shove him away.

Fuck her anyways.

He looked around the room, trying to distract himself from too much introspection and the warm feet that had found their way into his lap. His eyes lit on a sheaf of papers on the shelf next to his shoulder, and he lifted them down to rifle through. Was this what she'd been doing when she stayed locked in here? Apparently. It was a pile of sketches, done in some sort of graphite, although he hadn't realized pens and pencils were much in use in this part of space. It had seemed to be all screens and computers, and even stranger was where she'd found the materials on board what was obviously a ship full of paid fighters. Yet another mystery of River, he guessed, and began to flip through.

It was mainly portraits. A man with light hair and a boldly patterned shirt over what he guessed was a flight suit, dangling a little girl with slightly darker skin from his knee. A man with dark hair and beard, a squared jaw, and hard eyes. There was a gun laid out in pieces on a surface in front of him, but she hadn't fleshed the surrounding out much more than that, instead focusing on the person himself. On the next page was a woman, dark skinned with full lips and wiry hair. There was something about her face that told Riddick that pulling the wool over this one's eyes would require every bit of cunning he'd ever been able to manage, and he wondered a bit at how River'd managed to capture personalities as solidly as she did physical appearance. Next came a man, narrow nose, suspenders over a buttoned up shirt, and gun on his hip like it never left. He was arguing, or something, with a woman so at odds with his appearance that Riddick had to tilt his head to the side and squint to believe they could ever stand next to each other. Huge eyes, masses of dark hair, and fine clothing wrapped around a body meant to do one thing and one thing only, she was shaking a finger in the man's face and grinning as she did so. Now there would be an interesting pair to meet.

He flipped past a younger man with carefully trimmed dark hair and intent eyes next to a woman with a smile and smudges on her face to the back of the stack. There were repeats, the same faces with different expressions. Some of them set in rooms drawn entire, some just a set of eyes and a mouth in a less than defined blur. And then he hit a face he knew. Square jaw, light hair down to the jaw. Sleeveless shirt of some color between light and dark. She was screaming into a cave, and in the cave he saw eyes. Glowing eyes, slitted like a cat's. Stunned, he dropped the picture of Caroline and reached for the next, hoping it would be another of her crew. What he got was a huge jungle cat, dark coat with darker spots, holding Kyra down with one huge paw as she clawed and scrambled after a blurry figure in the middle distance. There was no indication of blood, and the cat's claws were sheathed. What the fuck?

Growling low in his chest, he flipped through the rest. Here was a Spitfire. Here the girl whose name he would never speak, the first one he'd killed for. There was a biorapter and Jack screaming under a rib bone as it tried to bash its way through to her. Imam and his wife, the face of their child aged by several years. Shirah, hand extended and glowing. He snarled and dropped the papers, only then noticing that the feet had left his lap.

"He snoops," Her voice was quiet, rough from sleep and crying itself out. Red rimmed eyes glared at him from behind a tangle of hair and he wanted nothing more than to bury his face and hands in it. Bury himself in her. And he knew she'd fight him. She was tensing even as he thought, hands fisting and jaw set. And he knew that the only way to get her to take him was to tie himself irrevocably to her and that, even as he thought again of bringing her with him, was something he couldn't bring himself to do. Too many died around him, both the deserving and the undeserving.

He covered the thought as quickly as he could, taking refuge in his anger. "Took a cheap shot last night. Thought you wanted nothing to do with me." It was a bad cover, and she wasn't fooled.

Her chin lifted and her eyes lit. "He was being rude; prying at thoughts he had no right to."

"And you don't?"

"She tries to leave the animal its secrets. Blocks much. If the _shiong mung duh kwong run_ would learn to think _quieter_, maybe she would not have to resort to pencils and paper to get it out of her head."

Riddick snorted and picked up the sheaf of papers. "Good work here. Don't know about the subject matter though. Looks like artistic liberty to me."

And just like that the fight went out of her. She rasped out a chuckle, hiding her face in her hands as her shoulders shook. He waited, one eyebrow raised, and when she finally resurfaced she was grinning from ear to ear. It was a nice change from the previous night. "What," he growled, when she didn't stop smiling.

"He knows the phrase. Would not expect a man educated in the penal system to know anything about art. Or artistic liberty." She doubled over, laughing outright now, and Riddick growled and drew himself up straight.

"Been called an artist before," he rumbled. "Taken plenty of artistic liberties."

She wouldn't stop snickering and he had to fight down the urge to grab her and shake. Was this another fit?

She waved a limp hand at him and took a couple of big gulps of air. "Not a fit. Not that kind of fit. It's just…" she lost it again for a moment before regaining control. "He almost got turned _into_ art. The irony!" And there she went again. Riddick sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. She had a point. At least Chillingsworth had been stupid enough to want a show before she stuck him up on a pedestal to spend eternity on a single blink. Now that had been one crazy bitch.

River had sobered while his mind wandered, and dug herself out of the nest of blankets to crawl over to his side. Carefully, reverently, she picked up the sheaf of paper and straightened it. "Her family calls to her," she murmured, and he breathed in apples and rain over wet earth to distract himself from those words. "Captain." She pulled out the picture of the man with suspenders. "And his wife. Companion. Counselor, seeker of new bodies. Brother," and there was the pretty boy with dark hair. "And _his_ wife." The woman with the smudged and happy face. She was arranging them around him in a semicircle and he told himself not to touch her as she reached past him. Vanilla bloomed in her scent, but she ignored him otherwise. "Stone woman with a heart that aches for her Wash," and she set the dark skinned woman down next to the man in the flight suit. "Lost him to Reavers you know," and her eyes were serious as she met his gaze. "Nearly lost herself too."

Two more pictures, one that he'd missed of an older man with dark skin and salt and pepper hair, and the man with the guns. "Lost the Shepherd to the Alliance," she sighed as she traced the face of the older man. "Grandfather kept her secrets and she shall endeavor to keep his to the grave in return. Lived on grief's doorstep for months and never worried till a ship came out of the sky bearing sanity and a purpose of _no ground to go to_. Knew the ship. Knew the weakness. Brought it down with one shot."

She pulled out the picture of the Captain and his woman and set them over the Shepherd. "Told the Captain to believe in the girl. Was the first to see her as she was. Saw her potential." Something in Riddick twisted at that, and she flinched slightly before dragging the last picture over the others. "Man with a girl's name. Only ever saw her as crazy. Moonbrain. Tried to sell her back once." She grinned up at him when his animal rumbled a protest at that thought. "In fairness, she'd just cut him open with a butcher's knife. He was wearing _their_ emblem. Looks better in red anyways."

Riddick didn't know whether to laugh or snarl at that. She grinned at him again before turning her attention back to the sketch. "Fought for her though. Never tried it again. Came to see her as herself. Never saw her as a child, or in need of coddling and wrapping in cotton in wool." She shrugged. "Wanted to stick her out an airlock instead. Safer for the crew. Can't bring Alliance down on them if she's dead. He had a point. Still a valid one, even though he'll fight tooth and nail alongside the crew to keep her from the blue hands." Now there was citrus in the air, overpowering the wet earth and not leaving much of the apples and rain at all.

Riddick growled and she looked at him sharply before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. The scents faded to whispers behind the apples and rain, and his animal subsided again. "What do _you_ want," he asked carefully. She stiffened, clutching convulsively at the covers around her, and her eyes went wide. The apples in her scent went sour, and the rain vanished completely. He waited as she caught her breath, and listened to her heart stutter.

Finally, when he thought he'd tipped her over the brink entirely, salt water bloomed around her and she crumpled in on herself. "She doesn't know," she whispered the broken voice, still rough from all the crying and full of confusion now. "Better if they all stay away. Blue hands. They never stop. Never stop coming. Want her back. Waited after the broadwave. Alliance still unstable. Toppling. The man would be better off without her. The family too."

Riddick snorted in disgust. "Ain't a real answer girl."

She glared up at him. "She has a name, _tah mah de_!"

He leaned over and snarled into her face, silver eyes meeting dark. "So does he!" Sweeping the papers out of the way, he stood and stalked over to the gap in the air vents. He could feel his animal telling him to go back and convince her that _they_ were what she wanted. That they would be all she'd ever need. He shoved it down. He was done being nice. "You ever figure out what the fuck it is you really want, let me know," he growled as he reached for the ceiling. "Not waiting around forever."

And that was as much of a concession as he could make, to either the girl or the animal. Get resupplied, get to this Haven place, lay Kyra to rest, and then he was gone. And the rest of the universe could sit and spin for all he cared, including the girl and her family.

"_Chu ni duh_!" She yelled behind him, and he yanked his feet up just in time to avoid a knife making its home in his ankle.

Beautiful.

**Author's Note**: Edited it some. Rachet pointed out I was missing words. Oops! I guess my brain was filling in the gaps! Guh!

So…I couldn't wait any more to update. Whoo! Partly because I have a buttload of chapters written that I want to get out to you guys, but mainly because all the love you guys are giving me makes me want to post faster. Love you guys!

So…whatcha think? Riddick doesn't get to play with all the shiny toys and its driving him bug nuts. I think I love him like this, all frustrated and pissed and not able to do anything about it. His epiphanies are all coming at the stupidest time aren't they? This story is, more than anything, turning out to be Riddick's journey as it interlaces with River's. I'm trying to balance the two, but for a while, plan to see him dominant. Not that I think many of you will mind. He is Riddick after all ;P

Firefly/Serenity © Whedon. Riddick and his home universe are© a whole pile of people whose names I'm getting tired of typing…

Rachet: Aww. Heartfelt feelings! Yay. Love yanking on the heartstrings. And yes, Simon is being an ass. But we'll see why later. And can ya blame him? Less UST in this one. Everyone needs a break, and this is more about realizations and conflict of interest in this Chap anyways. But there will be more!

As for the giant kitty…well just wait and see. He's got his counterpart as well.

Shenandoah76209: Yay! Love that you love the scents. I've got a small dictionary of them going in OneNote so I can keep track of what means what. I'd be lost otherwise. And yes, she may be lost, but he's worse. Think I resolved a little of that in this Chap though, although it just made him more pissed. Yay! Pissed Riddick is amusing Riddick! At least to me.

Tuuna: Thank you sooo much! So glad you've been liking this. It makes my heart race to write these notes to you and get to post them. Like a fun sort of conversation. Keep coming by!

Translations:

_shiong mung duh-_kwong run

_tah mah de-_Mother fucker

_Chu ni duh_-Screw you

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this. Fiery death!


	9. Chapter 9

Ch. 9

_I see you moving and they're getting scared_  
_Their eyes are focusing on something else_  
_You're staring at me and I stare at you_  
_I rage against everything that you do_  
_Get this hell out out of my way_  
_There's nothing more that you can say so_  
_Get this hell out get this hell out out out of my way_  
_So get this hell out get this hell out out out of my way_

"Swept Away", Flyleaf

The ship came to rest with a thud and a shudder. Riddick looked up from the engine in front of him to the comm speaker in the corner and counted off the seconds in his head. Right on cue, her voice came through. "Docking complete. Engine down to standby mode please." She was all business, no emotion. Had been for the past two and a half days. She'd still been teaching him, mostly about navigational markers, rules of the space lanes around here, and various bits and pieces she thought he'd need to know in occupied systems. She hadn't left the bridge except to sleep in the almost two days since he'd delivered his ultimatum. She waited till he slept to go eat, and she didn't dance or even do her katas in the cargo bay. He tracked her through the ship by the sound of her heart. Her scent had permeated the place, making it harder to tell where she was by nose alone. But nobody could avoid making some noise unless they were dead, and she was most definitely alive, and therefore she couldn't really ever hide from him. Not here. That fact in and of itself was killing him and he didn't care if she knew. But she hadn't given any indications one way or another. Just wandered through her day like a fucking robot. Emotionless. Blank. He wanted to shake her till she snapped and tried to kill him. At least it would be something.

A pounding on the outside of the hull snapped him out of his thoughts and he stomped out of the engine room to open the inner and outer bay doors. A wash of foul air entered the ship, reeking of spices, sweat, gun metal, and a multitude of other things he couldn't begin to describe. Standing in the gangway was a tubby man in a gray uniform, clipboard in hand and portable cortex in the other. He looked a bit taken aback at the sight of Riddick, and the ex-convict in question caught a breath of fear come off him. Strange how it didn't smell bad until it was coming off the girl. Speaking of which… he decided to give something a try, and roared at her in his head, thinking of her dark hair and pale skin and the need for her to get back to thebay _now_ so he wouldn't kill anything. His animal snorted, and he noticed that it didn't sound at all like it usually did. What the-?

And then she was there, pushing her hair back over her shoulder as she stalked out of the corridor and into the hold. He blinked slightly and squinted to look closer. No. His eyes hadn't been fooling him. She'd dug up a dress somewhere. Or made it. He couldn't tell. But it made her look like a waif, lost and helpless. She'd done something to her face too; the merc woman must have had a stash of makeup, because her eyes looked bigger, her lips shinier. He yanked his brain away from that line of thought and back to the current events. She was speaking to the fat man, voice earnest; everything in her posture saying she was going to be a good little girl, get resupplied and not make trouble. But her scent was still flat and he couldn't read a thing off it. What was she planning?

"Thank you Miss Reynolds, everything looks to be in order. Enjoy your stay." The fat man was giving her a little bow, she handed over a small sack of what Riddick guessed was coinage, and then they were left standing on the ramp alone.

He gave her a look. "Reynolds?"

The girl didn't answer. She had her head tilted to one side and was staring out into the throng of people just past the loading bay. "Hey," he took her carefully by the shoulder and turned her so he could see her face. Her eyes didn't track with the turn, trying instead to stay off in the distance. But finally they met his, and something crawled down his spine in response. He hadn't seen a look like that since Kyra had given him the "Welcome to the Necromongers" speech and wandered off into a crowd of death obsessed freaks. It made him want to hurt something. "Girl, you in there," he growled instead, shaking her lightly by the shoulder.

She blinked and her eyes refocused. "She has been attempting to choose her path. The option may be taken from her." He didn't think it was possible, but the statement was even creepier than the stare and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. She twitched, and he caught just a hint of lemons with the movement. "Hunters. Hands of blue and hearts gone missing acting in proxy. Don't tip the hand. Don't show a tell." She giggled, a high pitched sound like glass screeching. "Don't remember that everything they are is a tell. Look for the _Hound_ and its crew. Only so much she could do to the ownership records. It will be noted that it landed here, and not just by the seekers. Crew was well known as people who got the job done in merc circles. No chance they caught the girl otherwise. Competition will want to know who took their ship."

Riddick growled and stared back out at the mass of people. Some of them, workers in shipsuits, were coming towards the ship, wheeling hand trollies with fuel canisters on them. A couple others were pulling a blue hose out of a wall. Were they really dock workers? Or plants?

"He will do best away from her. Got mercs on her neck. Will always be mercs on her neck."

Riddick snarled and turned on her, hand going for the shiv he'd tucked into his belt. She stared up at him, jaw set and eyes narrowed. He could see her muscles tightening; feel her heart rate rise in anticipation. He fought his down back into his chest, and held his breath to keep from shouting. What was going on was bad enough, no need to mark themselves as any more different.

As if that was the mental cue she was waiting for, the tension drained out of the girl and she heaved a deep breath. "Need fresh food," she said as she said as she slapped the external locking pad, turned away and headed off the ship as the bay doors started to shut and he had to make the choice to follow her or get locked inside. "Clothes. Papers for the _hwoon dahn_." She grinned up at him as he stalked after her and he lifted a lip in return.

~HHYFN~

An hour and half later Richard B. Riddick, escaped convict, murderer, former Lord Marshall and all around bad ass was ready to throw in the towel. The place reeked. Sweat, metal, fear, anger, drugs, rancid perfume, hot oil and unidentifiable foodstuffs all worked together to drive themselves into his nose and up into his brain. It was enough to stun an ox, and he'd lost the girl's scent in the mix less than twenty feet into the press of people around them. His ears were buzzing from the constant noise, and it was ticking him off that he was having trouble keeping track of her heartbeat when she wasn't even a foot away. Civilization.

He fucking hated it.

She was fading too. Gone was the confident step, the readiness to snarl at him. Her eyes were flickering, her skin had taken on a chalky look, even through the goggles, and she was starting to limp. He knew she knew he was watching her carefully, picking out the weaknesses and openings, but it was actually more of a help than a hindrance at this point. He tried to push the thought at her that they needed to stop, get out of the crowd and rest. He followed it up with a threat of mass bloodshed, just to see if it would get a reaction. She dredged up a scowl for him from somewhere and reached around behind her to wrap a hand around what he thought was a shiv. Instead she pulled a child, no bigger than ten and scrawnier even than Jack had been, around in front of her. Her other arm had a bag of apples and another of oranges hanging off of it, so Riddick took his cue and pulled one of the smaller shivs from his belt and held it to the kid's neck. He didn't really want to cut on him, but the threat needed to be seen as serious. For a second he saw Jack in front of him as huge eyes bugged out and then the vision was gone as the boy started to babble. River had him by the shoulder now and her other hand was out, palm up. Shaking and crying, the boy pulled a pouch from his pocket. Riddick recognized that pouch. River had been dipping into it all day to pay for this, that, and the other thing. He growled low in his chest, angry that he hadn't noticed the boy with any of his senses before he'd slipped up and tried to rob River blind. Maybe he should take a finger or two.

River shot him her patented "Idiot Neanderthal" look before turning back to the boy. She had hung the pouch off of one finger and still had her hand out. The boy stared, shook, and even over the pong of the place, Riddick could smell his fear. Slowly, the kid drew out another pouch, this one much larger. And much heavier. River grinned, just slightly, and took that pouch as well and stuffed it into the front of the wide leather belt she was wearing. Then, quick as you please, she flipped their first pouch up, caught it, and presented it to the boy. "Food for the family," she sang, and Riddick wondered if she knew how tired she sounded through the false cheer. She stepped on his foot, gently. "Don't pick marks that can feel you," she continued. "And work on the lightfingers. You're new. You'll get better." And with that she dropped the pouch down the front of the boy's shirt, let go, and gave him a little shove away from Riddick's blade. The big man stared at her, letting her push him back into the movement of the crowd with a hand at his back, then at the boy. The kid was already gone.

"The fuck," he asked, for lack of anything more coherent to say. It didn't matter. She was getting it all out of his head. They really needed a way for her to talk back. It would make the both of them less obvious. These half conversations in the middle of public places were liable to get them both caught. She shook her head and didn't answer. He growled and followed her. He got it, he did. Kid was three quarters starved. Hell, he might have left him some money too. But switching out the pouches?

His train of thought was interrupted as the girl stumbled. Over nothing. He caught her by the shoulders as she started to go down and placed her back on her feet. She winced as she landed and he snarled to himself. Just fucking great. "A place out of the way," he growled. "Get you off your feet for a bit."

It was a measure of her exhaustion and pain that she didn't argue. Instead she pointed at a door half hidden between two vendors selling what looked like cloth and minor engine parts. On entry, it turned out to be a restaurant of some sort. The attendant at the door didn't do anything more than wave them in, gesturing at the empty chairs placed in front of the waist high counter that ran around the room. Riddick steered the girl towards a couple in the rear of the room, and she stood there, clinging to the back of the high chair as he pulled the bags of fruit off of her arm and tied them to the chair instead. That's when he noticed the conveyor belt moving parallel to the counter. Smallish plates piled with various sorts of food trundled past and he snorted. That was one way to avoid needing extra staff. Or not. A tired woman wrapped in a short dingy robe-like uniform came by just as he was edging into his seat, placing a big bowl of rice down between them, along with something he hoped was water. Riddick raised an eyebrow at River once the woman was gone, but the girl was ignoring him. She'd grabbed four of the moving plates and was currently rearranging them in front of her. A scoop of rice onto one of them and a snatch at a container of what appeared to be eating utensils, although they looked like little sticks to him, and she was off. Riddick wondered vaguely what she'd been eating for the past couple days if she was that hungry. He'd finished off the last of the prepackaged meals and his animal was raging at him now, telling him he should have left a couple. His animal was right, but he didn't have time for an argument like that right now. Food that looked like it may have been food at one point was calling his name.

Neither spoke for a good twenty minutes. Riddick didn't want to know how the tally was going to come out, but he figured it would be worth it in the end. And if not, they could always go find another pickpocket to rob. Next to him River giggled, the first real sign of life she'd shown since they'd sat down. "Only useful once. Food will be expensive. Always is on a skyplex. But worth it indeed." She stacked a few more of her empty plates together and set them to the side. "Needed to trade money for money. Will have to make this pouch last until we can get another. Besides, boy had three sisters and a mother and only enough food at home for the littlest."

Riddick snorted. "Don't care about the family. Why not keep both?"

"Told you," she took a gulp of water and made a face. He sympathized. Who knew how many times it had been run through the recyclers on this floating heap. "Ship is being looked for. Crew just came off a good job. Money could be traced back to it." She looked at him over the rim of her glass and grinned. "This pouch came from captain of slaver ship."

"So we need to make it last," Riddick growled. They had two more pouches full of coin back on the _Hound_, but those had just gotten written off the resources list.

The girl nodded and sat back. "Good thing we already bought most of supplies. Can keep this for later."

Riddick groaned and rubbed at his head with both hands, not sure if he should be grateful or not. On one hand, there was all that money out there now that could be traced back to the ship. They'd gone from booth to shop to vendor, poking at this, examining that. The girl had fingered goods, sniffed fruit, and haggled at the top of her lungs in a mix of Common and Chinese. A couple times he'd nearly thought things would come to blows, and his animal had growled inside. Then she would smile the shopkeeper, hand over some money, and wave in the direction of their dock. That he _could_ be grateful for, the fact that they didn't have to carry all that stuff back to the ship. He just hoped it wouldn't get messed with between delivery and their return.

A cool hand patted his and he turned his head to look at the girl. Her eyes were dancing and she was doing her best to grin around a mouthful of food. He raised an eyebrow. "Really need a way for you to talk back to me." She looked like a tree rodent with her cheeks stuffed full and it was ridiculous and endearing all at the same time. The thought just made her start twitching, and for a second he wondered if he needed to get out of range of the inevitable spray of food. But she got herself under control and managed to swallow before doubling over in a fit of giggles; a fit which resulted in her leaning her head against his side and he really couldn't bring himself to complain at the indignity of it all. His animal stretched inside his head and then looked up to meet the man's eyes as it purred in satisfaction. He had the distinct feeling that it was trying to tell him something, but for once he wasn't getting a clear idea of what it may be.

Finally she stopped laughing and sat back up, wiping tears of mirth out of the corners of her eyes. Her makeup was a bit smeared, and now instead of a tree rodent she looked like a raccoon. Riddick buried that though before it could fully surface. They were drawing enough strange looks as it was, what with the differences in appearance. She caught it anyways and dipped a napkin in a glass of water before attempting to wipe some of the mess away. "Needed to look frail," she said. "Like she used to be." The napkin wasn't working. She kept missing the worst of it. Growling, he snatched up another one, grabbed her by the chin with the other hand and went to work. She didn't fight or argue, and this close to her he could smell the vanilla starting to creep into the air around them. He sat on his animal before it could make its opinion known. "He has been helping her get big scary man discount, works better if she looks like she needs protector."

He blinked at her; glad it was hidden behind the goggles, and let the question rise to the surface. She snorted, but smiled. "Do it with crew. Stone woman with a heart cannot pull it off, but others can. Go out with gun hand. He looms and growls and fingers weapons. Get a discount."

"Gun hand," he said, because he couldn't quite come up with a proper reply to the rest of the statement that wouldn't blow their cover all to hell.

She nodded. "Man with a girl's name. Plays the guitar. Names his weapons. Pretends more affection for them than people." She pulled her chin out of his hand and he realized he'd just been sitting there, not doing anything with the napkin, for the past couple minutes. At least the gunk was off her face though. She didn't need it anyways.

Vanilla bloomed a little brighter and he could see her cheeks change shades. The animal grinned at him. "She has also been trying to communicate. But it is difficult. Has never been able to with any one. The jaguar has been trying to help. Has even managed to pass a few things on. But it is too uncertain and not to be relied upon."

Riddick mulled that over for a moment as he stacked his empty plates and shoved them to the side. It made a few things over the last week or so clear, and the behavior of his inner animal even more so. She was right. It was too unpredictable and too vague to be worth anything at this point, which sucked because not having to worry about getting caught for things said out loud was more valuable than a pouch full of untraceable money. Speaking of which. He turned back to the girl, but she was already slipping out of her chair and reaching for the fruit. Growling at her under his breath, he tried to take them from her, but she swatted at his hand with the flat of a blade and gave him a glare. "Big scary man discount won't work if he can be tamed."

His animal perked up at that, but he just forced a chuckle and followed her up to the counter, where she handed over several of their coins, and then out into the mass of people in the corridor. For a moment he almost took her by the shoulder and pulled her back into the restaurant as the stench made itself known to him all over again but she was already moving. Stepping carefully around, through, and sometimes even over people, she was moving with purpose and a goal. Riddick snarled and went after her. The stream ebbed and flowed around him and the waters parted and then he was there. A faint tickle of apples and rain and the last drift of vanilla reached his nose before he made it to her side and set himself to keeping the crush from overwhelming her. She shot him an amused look. "One last place. Then back to ship to load and wait for night cycle."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. She grinned outright. "Post. Things that can't be found or haggled for. And then dim lights, much alcohol and hopefully no fights."

He sighed. Richard B. fucking Riddick, couldn't go through life without a woman leading him by the nose from one trouble spot to the next. Glorified bodyguard was what he was, and he didn't even get paid for it.

Next to his elbow the girl snickered. "How the mighty have fallen."

He didn't dignify that with a reply, mental or otherwise.

~HHYFN~

An hour and a half, six thousand people, one portly postmaster, and the most unnerving behavior he'd seen yet out of the girl, and they made it back to the ship. Riddick hit the exterior lock with a snarl, resisted kicking the crates of food out of his way by force of will alone, and practically dropped the psycho on her ass inside the cargo bay. She scrambled to her feet, wincing, and stuck her tongue out at him. "_Hwoon dahn_ is so caught up in himself, he cannot see the logic in front of him," she hissed, and he could see her hand start to reach for the blade she kept tucked into the back of her belt. He growled and caught her wrist. "You crazy little bitch, one minute you're all kinds of stealthy, next you want to pull a blade and flag every badge in sight?"

She curled a lip, but stopped trying to get free. Now, away from the throng he could catch her scent. Apples and rain, a bit of charcoal leavened with malt, and blood. A quick visual scan gave him only one of two options and from the fact that it smelled fresh rather than old it must have been her feet. Hidden as they'd been in her boots all day he knew they must have rubbed worse than he'd thought. She didn't fight him when he picked her up under the arms and sat her on a crate just inside the hold. "Stay put," he growled, shoving mental images in her direction of what he'd do to her if she walked any further on her damaged feet. She'd been limping steadily ever since they'd left the post, which had led to him half carrying her in the first place. She giggled as he set her down and pulled her feet up to sit cross legged, then giggled again as she caught him staring at the line of her leg revealed by the skirt.

"Need to get the cargo inside," she said, closing her eyes and laying her palms on her knees. "Won't have time later."

He stopped and turned to give her a look. She shrugged. "Going to a bar. Never been to one with Captain Daddy and made it out without some sort of fight." Her eyes opened and she grinned at the rumbling his animal was giving off. "And no, you aren't Captain Daddy. This may be worse actually. _He_ never actually gets to follow through on shooting the _wang bao dahn_ who try to proposition his daughter."

Riddick nearly dropped the crate he was carrying. "What," he roared, all pretense of staying unnoticed lost in the knee jerk response of both the man and the animal. She nearly fell off her perch, arms wrapped around her sides as she laughed. Damn woman wouldn't stop fucking with his head. Maybe he should just get off here and save himself the headaches that came from being around her. Fucking mind games.

She sobered instantly, vanilla, wet earth and that nauseating smell from the other night drowning out the rest of her scents. Her heart was still racing, although she took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself. Riddick could have kicked himself. He did aim one at his animal, which spat and swiped at him with an open set of claws. He growled in reply. To distract them all from the turn the conversation had taken, he tried another tack. "Speaking of daughters," he said, letting his curiosity drown everything else out, "thought your name was Reynolds. What was that back at the post?"

Whatever it had been, it had set the fine hairs up on end all over his body and nearly had him reaching for a shiv by the end of it. He didn't know if it had been on purpose or just a special kind of fit she took; but one minute she'd been herself, limping and tired, but as close to stable as he ever saw. The next she was walking into a semi private alcove with a man in a closed booth at the back and her personality had been replaced. Not with the rambling lunatic from the first day or so he'd known her. And not the killing machine either. This girl was happy, bubbly, with a smile too innocent to be real hovering around her lips and a skip in her step that he _knew_ beyond a shadow of a doubt wouldn't be possible with her feet in the condition they were in. She'd grinned up at him and patted him on the arm before dumping her load of fruit over his arm and headed for the booth. "Morn'n Amnon," she'd said, and Riddick had felt his blood go cold at the cheer in the voice. "How's the day goi'n for ya?"

The man in the booth had perked up, closing whatever he'd been doing on the Cortex screen and standing to move to the door of his little area. "Why Mary Frye, I do declare, ain't seen you in an age. Where you been hiding yourself girl?" He was out now, and they were both oblivious to the living statue that was Riddick standing just outside the alcove. "Not with _Serenity _no more?"

The girl had shrugged before giving the man a quick hug. "Oh you know. Runnin' errands while the Captain heals up from the latest brush with death. Doc's keep'n an eye on him. Got gut shot this time. An' sis is keep'n an eye on them both. Zo's wand'r'n though. Supplies an' all."

The man had snorted and shook his head. "Leav'n you to pick up the post I see." He glanced behind her and noticed Riddick for the first time. "Replace Cobb there little 'un?"

Riddick had lifted a lip in reply and started shifting his burden so he could get to his blades easier. River had laughed and slapped the man lightly on the chest. "Naw, not hardly. That there's Rick. Pay'n passenger. Cobb's off gett'n hisself some trim," she made a face that said clearly what she thought of _that_, "and big bad merc couldn't be bothered to come play mule for a few minutes first. Told Rick I'd shave some offa his fare if he'd help get the big scary man discount." And she was laughing again, face bright, eyes happy. Riddick wanted to grab her and yank her out of the room to see if it would turn her back into herself. His animal didn't like the man touching her with such familiarity. The man didn't like it either. And what the _fuck_ was with the name he'd called her? He didn't get the chance though, because Amnon was headed back into the booth. "Don't rightly think you'll need to put him out there Mary. Only got a couple a' bitty packages wait'n . Both for you in fact."

River had grinned and leaned against the counter. "Oh good. Was afraid they wouldn't come!" She grimaced and shifted her weight, shrugging one shoulder at the same time. "Tell truth, was afraid it'd be another crate big 'nough to hold a person. Dunno what we needed alla it for anyways. Cobb's got hisself a room full ammo. Like to blow the boat to kingdom come one o' these days." Riddick had been able to smell malt coming off her by that point, and wondered at how tired she had to be that it was reaching him five feet away and over the stench of the throng outside. He'd growled, an entirely involuntary sound, and her eyes had flicked to him momentarily. She'd given him a slight shake of the head, which the post master didn't notice. The man had just come back into the booth from a room behind it and was carrying a pair of cardboard boxes with Chinese written all over them. He was blushing too, which Riddick didn't get but figured he'd find out when they opened the boxes. When had she had the opportunity to order anything anyways? Unless these were from before her capture, in which case he'd had a brief vision of all their remaining money going to pay extended holding fees. The fear was short lived though, and the postmaster simply had River sign a slip of paper before shoving the boxes at her like they might bite. She'd laughed, not her usual laugh either, and scooped them up. "Come on now Amnon, you know a girl needs things out in the Black."

"Got daughters," the man had croaked as Riddick's mind ran through the possibilities, all of which sent his animal purring in anticipation. He showed it the pit he'd been keeping it in before the girl turned up and the thing subsided. Somewhat. Amnon was still sputtering. "Don't need ta know girl."

River had laughed again, scooped up her boxes, and trotted out of the alcove. Riddick had tried to take them from her, but she'd dodged his reaching hands and set off down the corridor in the direction of the docking bays. Two steps out her trot had turned to a slight limp, her posture had changed, and she gasped just slightly. That had been enough to decide him. Slinging the fruit over his shoulder and snatching the boxes in one hand, he'd wrapped an arm around her ribcage and set himself so he'd take most of the weight off her feet. "C'mon girl," he'd growled, and started towing her towards their ship and sanctuary from the crowds.

Now he stood, arms crossed, and stared at her though his goggles. It was hard to convince someone he was glaring as opposed to just trying to be unnerving with the things blocking half his expressions, but he knew he was managing this time. She was glaring right back. They stayed frozen like that for a couple minutes, and he had a flash of how ridiculous it would have looked to an outside observer. Lucky enough, the crowds outside seemed to be dying off a bit, and none of the dock workers were in earshot. Finally she heaved a sigh and returned to her cross legged position. "She has many names. Captain Daddy adopted her when she reached her majority and the biological parents could no longer lay claim over her," she snorted and rearranged her dress. Riddick refused to let his eyes leave hers. She was trying to mess with his head again. The twitches at the edges of her lips confirmed it. "When _ge ge_ married the Kaylee, he took her name. Less obvious that way. Tam is a name well known among both the criminal and the moneyed. They rejected the children, threw them to the wolves. We no longer claim relationship." She shrugged, but her scent was of wet earth still, the apples and rain only a remembered whisper. "She takes the name Frye when planetside sometimes, and on the Cortex. Muddy the trail, let them wonder. Apologies," , she dropped her head and her voice was just a whisper now. "Didn't think to warn him. The minds and minds around her. All calling, clamoring for attention. Was focused on Amnon, using the right voice and keeping her words straight so he wouldn't know she's not what she says."

Something settled in him then. His animal yawned and lay its head back down on its paws and the man relaxed just a fraction. It was interesting to see the girl stand down as well, as if her tension had been tied to his. Seemed he wasn't the only one finding their body tuned to another. Although it didn't make the act she'd put on any less creepy. He was just turning back to the stack of crates outside the cargo bay when she spoke again in a voice full of exhaustion. "She channels the sister for the act. Nobody can outshine the sun in Kaylee. So cheerful you want to dump her in the hold to get her to shut up." Riddick shuddered privately. He'd end up doing more than dumping someone in a hold if they acted like that around him. Yet another argument for kicking on and never meeting this crew of hers.

He pretended he didn't smell the warm salt smell of fresh tears and wet earth as he finished loading the supplies and she pretended not to hear the rumbling growl of his animal as it fought to free itself of the man.

Author's Note. I blame you guys. I had a plan. Weekends and Tuesday/Wednesdayish I would update. But nooooo. I look forward to hearing from you guys so much that I'm stepping up the schedule. Here's hoping I can keep my lead on chapters going, at least until I finish. This sucker is going to be a monster, and I've hit 123k words and the finish line is only a small gleam in the distance. But I'm having way too much fun with other people's characters (No! They're NOT MINE!) to stop now. And I'm loving seeing the comments, favs and follows stack up too much as well. XD

A couple things. Keep in mind that River is several years post-BDM at this point. She's not a teenager anymore. Not only has she managed to make herself mostly functional, barring stress and the occasional overwhelming mass murder who likes to follow her around, but she's also established her role in the crew. This means, to me at least, that she's going to know a few tricks and a few people, and better yet, she knows how to exploit them. Riddick on the other hand, knows how his home planets work backwards and forwards, and while there will be a lot of things that are no brainers for him, I think it's the Chinese culture and its influence that's going to be his main stumbling block. It's just so ingrained in everything.

Onward!

Scpeede: Whoo! Glad you like it! Please keep stopping by, I love to hear from people on what's going on in the story!

Rachet: Rachet. Rachet. Faithfull Rachet. XD Thanks much for the tips on the last chapter. Hope I got most of them fixed. We actually _have_ met the jaguar's counterpart BTW, but we won't see them really interact for a little while yet. It'll be more obvious the further we go. I think he will, keep the clarity that is. So long as he understands what the heck is going on, I think we can bribe him into translating. Maybe. I'm suddenly scared of what his idea of a good bribe may be. Need to look into that… And yay! I'm making people sign up for (hi Guin!), making you stop your show. Next is keeping someone up till three in the morning so they can finish reading just one. More. Chapter!

Shenandoah76209: I've got this whole list of stuff I need to keep track of. Time. Scents. Analogies. My brain swims. Don't feel so bad for Riddick. He's fighting his head yes, but he's also about to be a complete and total bastard for a few chapters. As for Simon coddling River…I don't know about that. But I've promised you a pulverized Simon later on, and I will deliver!

Translations:

_hwoon dahn-_son of a bitch (sorry. I'm finding conflicting translations for this)

_wang bao dahn-_dirty bastard

_ge ge-_brother

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this. Fiery death!

Slip: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.


	10. Chapter 10

Ch. 10

_Her eyes_

_She's on the dark side_

_Neutralize_

_Every man in sight_

"Angel" Massive Attack

Time was both concrete and fluid. There was a solidity to it. Couldn't stop it from passing, but the perception of it could be bent. Even broken. It was a fact he knew well. Weeks, months even, with his body in artificial lockdown. A prison for his mind, which ran and calculated and generally worked itself into knots and out. They never could figure out why he didn't mind the Slam so much. At least he could move around there. It wasn't a secret he was about to let anyone in on.

He'd gone absolutely crazy a few times; he knew there was nothing else to call it. Nobody could stay locked up like that and not go fucking batshit at least once. The more important thing was that he'd come out of the state of animal rage, ready to kill and maim and visit every imaginable torture on the next beating heart to cross his path, and he could control it if need be. He still heard the whispers, even out of cryo, still knew the best spots to kill a person in this or that situation. The sweet spot he favored wasn't necessarily the quietest kill. Nor was it the fastest. But it was the one he loved best. It was the one that best satisfied his animal's need for a bloody kill, to smell the rising scent of blood and feel its heat as it pumped its way out of the body in time to a frantic heartbeat. And it was that knowledge that he could and would eventually pull out of that state and back into time as it flowed for the rest of the universe that was keeping him on an even keel at the moment. Because if he didn't know better, he'd think that this crazy little witch in front of him had just signed her death warrant.

She stood in front of him, arms crossed and glaring. He scowled back, but most of his attention was on the wrench she'd fucking _thrown_ at his head when he answered her call to come down to the engine room. It was her turn now, he decided. She'd just locked herself in a darkened coring room with a monster and the monster was hungry. It was a measure of his rage that the animal didn't even prick its ears at the double meaning of the words. They were both too furious for it. Slowly, carefully, he looked back to the girl and in a voice he was proud to call fairly even asked, "What. The. Fuck?"

She hunched her shoulders and put her head down, eyes blazing as she stared up through her lashes. "Mass. She lacks it. He doesn't. Can't get the bolt to tighten."

If she'd told him anything. Anything but that. She needed him to fucking tighten down a bolt and felt like to throw a fucking _wrench_ at his head to get his attention? Snarling. Roaring. Animal noises without words. Pure rage drove him as he picked her up and slammed her up against the hull. She bit her lip on a cry, but he could still hear it between her clenched teeth. It tore through him to the animal and he was both pleased and disgusted that he'd made her hurt. Shoving the feeling aside, he pinned her in place with an arm across her throat and waved the wrench under her nose. It was incredibly tempting to bury it in that pretty little head right then. "What," he growled, and it came out so hoarse it almost wasn't a word. He tried again. "What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. _Asking?"_

She opened her mouth and nothing came out but a croak. Her heart was racing and her lungs labored. Apples and rain and just a bit of freshly sharpened steel mixed with charcoal rolled off her like the tide. No fear though. He let up the pressure, just a bit, and she managed to drag a breath in. "Tried," she whispered. "Tried. Jaguar. Didn't work."

In his head, the jaguar stilled and flicked an ear. The man eyed it, but didn't get any more clues. It didn't make him any less angry either. He leaned down so he could meet her gaze through his goggles. She'd turned up the lights in the engine room so she could see; which he couldn't blame her for. Sure as fuck didn't explain what she was doing down here the first place when he'd thought she'd show some sense for once and go find a place to be that didn't require standing on her freshly bandaged feet. A task she'd taken care of herself while he was tying down the last of the supplies. Dodging him was what she was doing.

Well she couldn't dodge him now.

"Again," he growled. "Just ask." She stiffened, and her scent went a million kinds of crazy as emotions flitted across her face. He couldn't catch what half of them even were, much less what they meant. Finally she sighed and tipped her head back as far as she could manage as apples and rain and charcoal surrounded him like a blanket. "Meant to. Meant to be sane. Something off. Watchers. Sasquatch comes. Doesn't want to go with him either. Cannot pick the specific from the general if the minds are unknown." Now she looked at him and there was something in her eyes. A rage he hadn't seen yet, and a sadness too. "He should make his choice soon. Her's could be taken from her."

The animal, a bit calmer than the man at the moment, put the pieces into some semblance of order and shoved the whole in his direction. Riddick could feel his skin twitch; a full body maneuver that cut off the girl's air for a moment before he got himself back under control again. "Then why haven't we taken off yet? Got supplies. Got fuel, water, oxygen. Why stick around?" He was going to leave the Sasquatch part out of the confusion for now. She obviously knew what it meant, no need to poke. At least not yet.

Her lips twitched in the briefest of smiles before her face went blank again. "Need the papers. He can't travel the 'Verse if he doesn't exist. Not allowed, not existing. Only Operatives, special dispensation. But the_ ching wah tsao duh liou_ _mahng_ needs a name, at least so they can put it on the wanted bulletins."

The lack of fear in the air wasn't making this any fun at all, and the fact that she wasn't fighting back didn't make it any better. His animal grumbled in disgust and he agreed. A sigh rumbled its way past his lips and he stepped back, leaving the girl to catch her balance, or not. She did, teetering slightly onto her heels, which were the less damaged portions of her feet, before leaning against the hull and looking up into his goggles. They stared at each other for a moment, and for a second he could have sworn he felt her moving in his head. It wasn't painful, and he didn't bother to try and think of anything else. Let her see what she'd almost brought on herself. Let her know how close he'd come to ending her right there.

The girl just snorted, pushed herself to her feet again, and reached for the lights. Only when she'd turned them down to the dimmest possible setting without turning them off did she look back at him. He was still angry, and he knew it. She couldn't appease him by giving him darkness. But he didn't fight or pull away when she reached up and pushed his goggles up onto his forehead. He could smell her, like a picture of regret and sadness painted onto his brain and he inhaled deeply, just now realizing he might have robbed himself of that smell forever. His animal snarled and hunkered down, one part unwilling to let its rage be taken, the other wanting to reach for her and just live inside her skin so they'd never lose that smell again. Hell, he didn't even want to be next to her in the crowd again, for fear of not being able to tell where she was by breath and heart beat and smell. How was that for fucked up?

"Many apologies," she whispered, and he had to fight not to close his eyes as her breath ghosted over his face. Something in her eyes changed, but she continued as if she hadn't noticed his reaction. "Meant to ask. Please. Will he tighten the bolts for her?"

He couldn't help it. He leaned forward till his forehead touched hers. He felt his nose bump against her's and knew that if he tilted his head just so- She shuddered and he could feel the heat start to come off her. To distract himself and her he growled. "Only if you tell me why the hell you think it's so important."

She leaned back and tilted her head to one side, then shrugged. "Said already. Watchers. May need to leave quickly. Priming engine for takeoff. Run ignition from bridge, no need for second hands."

Riddick growled, but moved over towards the engine. A slim hand over his shoulder pointed out what needed tightening. "You make your choice then girl," he grunted the question as he threw his weight against the wrench.

She stilled behind him, and then she was pointing out another bolt. "Choice may be made," was all she'd say. And for some reason, that pissed him off almost as much as getting a wrench thrown at his head had. She twitched where she was leaning against his back and then stood. "Be wary," she murmured. "Hunters come." And then, try as he might to unravel the riddlespeak or get her to elaborate, she refused to speak any more on the subject.

~HHYFN~

The bar was an extension of the corridors outside. Loud, filled with people and smells that mixed in a way that never should have been possible. Riddick had the sudden urge to stuff something up his nose. Anything to not have to be aware of the stench. Next to him the girl giggled, and he glared down at her. "Glad you think it's funny."

She gave him the how-much-of-an-idiot-can-you-be look before turning her attention back to the crowd they were attempting to move through. "He smells. She hears. If she could turn off the brain she would."

He snorted and yanked her out of the way of a drunken man who was making retching noises. She stumbled slightly and he braced her before setting her carefully back on her feet. "That's what alcohol is for." It was more for something to say and distract himself from her proximity than anything. He had a suspicion that if he took what she was like while strung out on tranqs and cryo drugs and added alcohol, he'd find chaos incarnate. Not that the idea didn't appeal on some level, but at the moment he just wanted to get this deal she was so insistent on over and done with. No point in being wanted for mass murder if there wasn't a name to go with the face. Although this habit she had habit of giggling at nothing in particular when she caught his stray thoughts was leaving him with a desire for some good old fashioned mayhem. He'd take violent and crazy over giggling and crazy at this point.

She sighed and leaned into his elbow. "Have to laugh or she'll break. Have to find the joy or she'll strike to remove the voices." The eyes she turned on him were sad, and he could feel the thump of her heart and rhythm of her breath through his skin. "But even the dead scream. She'll never know silence again."

Riddick growled and felt his animal growl with him. He took it out on the last few people between them and the bar, using his bulk to force a gap and create space for the girl, for River, to get in front of him and hitch herself up onto a stool. Why she absolutely _needed_ to be there he had no idea, but if getting her there and back out again would get them off this fucking metal beehive any quicker, he wasn't going to argue. A couple of the men he'd shouldered out of the way turned to snap at him, but stopped when they caught sight of his goggled scowl. He allowed himself a small smile, just an upturn of the corners of his mouth really, and even over the stench of the bar he could smell their fear. A few of others were more interested in the girl, eyeing her up and down in a way that made him want to reach out and take their eyeballs. Preferably with the tip of a shiv.

Not that he blamed them. He'd been throwing covert glances himself, aided by the need to stick close to the girl's side and the fact that it was impossible to tell where his eyes were really looking unless he turned his head. Tough leather boots encased her feet, rewrapped after all the clambering around the engine room she'd been doing that after noon. She was hiding the limp fairly well, but it was making her clumsy. Along the lines of how normal people walked instead of her usual grace. The boots went over the hems of a pair of pants somewhere in the midrange of the gray scale, although he wasn't sure what color they really were. The shirt, tunic really, was darker, and the neckline dipped from shoulder to shoulder in a wide swoop, teasing but promising nothing. Just like the girl in fact. That drew a growl, and the last couple of oglers turned to find the source of the noise. He took the half step needed to place himself flush against her back and lifted a lip at them. Whatever he may think of her, he wasn't going to let her be treated like a piece of meat up for sale. The men backed off and the girl leaned against him, tipping her head up so she could meet his eyes. He glared down at her and tried to ignore the fact that she was giving him an eyeful down the front of her shirt.

Tease.

She reached up and patted him on the cheek, giving him a small smile in the process. "And he isn't?" Cryptic quota reached for the moment, she tipped forward and landed on her elbows on the bar. "Hey," she yelled in an entirely different voice. "You sell anything but _shee niou_ around here? I'm thirsty gorramit!"

Riddick couldn't help it. He twitched. Something about her lightning fast personality changes set him on edge. Even her scent was changing. He was close enough to tell this time. Why it hadn't he noticed anything earlier while they were in the post? Or had it been the fact that her exhaustion had overridden everything, even the change? It was a puzzle for another time, and it could only be solved by being near her as she flipped through the personalities. _Not_ an experience he really wanted to go through if he could help it.

The bartender had wandered over by that point, and he must have missed whatever the girl told the man, because next thing he knew there were a couple of shot glasses full of amber liquid being set down in front of them. River flicked him a coin and the man caught it before going back to his empty glasses, wiping them clean and stacking them behind the counter. Riddick frowned. It seemed off, but then he didn't have a baseline to judge against in this shithole. The feeling was confirmed though when the girl dipped a finger in one of the glasses as she passed the other back to him. He tossed it back, feeling the burn of cheap whiskey all the way down his throat and into his stomach. She was drawing on the counter with the wet finger, and if he squinted he could see what looked like a Chinese character before the swipe of a rag absorbed it. Scowling, he looked up into the too bland face of the barkeep, who blinked once before wandering off down the bar.

"Care to explain," the big man growled as he leaned over the girl's shoulder and reached for the other shot glass. She shifted to the side, just slightly, and looked at him over her shoulder. The grin on her face was manic, and there was an edge to her eyes that he didn't like as she answered. "Just knock'n on the door is all Ricky boy" And with that she hopped off the stool and started squeezing her way back through the crowd. Grumbling, he tossed back the shot, slammed the glass down on the counter, and followed. Crazy bitch. Be good to be back on top and not have to follow her around.

His jaguar laughed at him.

~HHYFN~

They ended up in a booth, miraculously free of people. He figured it had something to do with the proximity to the emergency exit that clearly wasn't. Every so often someone slipped out through the door, or came scuttling into the room as it cracked open. She'd acquired a half full bottle of something that smelled like aged urine from somewhere and was toying with a shot glass full of the stuff as she studied the crowd and tapped her foot against the post holding the table up. At least there was a rhythm to the tapping. For his part, he had a shot glass of his own and was rapping out a counterpoint to her foot with one of his shivs.

It wouldn't keep him occupied forever though, and he was starting to get truly irritated when a short man with dusky skin and dark almond eyes popped out of the door. "Miss Reynolds," he exclaimed, sidling around a much larger bruiser that could have pinched his head off like a grape. "How lovely to see you again!"

For her part, the girl stretched out a hand to allow him to take it in both of his and gave him a sideways grin. "Been awhile Chang. Business still booming?"

Riddick shifted as something around the man's eyes tightened, but Chang just grinned and helped "Miss Reynolds" to her feet. "It's booming all right. Speaking of which, please, follow me." And now he turned to look at Riddick, although something told the big man that no matter how much he seemed focused on the girl, this guy had been anything but blind to her companion's presence. Good. So she wasn't trusting a total idiot then. He didn't miss the look she shot him as the little rat turned and started making his way to the door. Even better. Looked like she wasn't trusting him at all.

She nodded once, slightly, and then they were through. The room they entered was small, draped in rotted silks, wires, hoses and exposed plumbing. The stench, though different than that of the bar or even the corridors of the skyplex, was enough to make his eyes water. Riddick never wanted to see another boiled egg again, much less smell one. The girl next to him snorted, but otherwise ignored him, and left him to cope on his own as she set out in the wake of the strange little man who'd fetched them. After a moment the convict followed, growling under his breath and generally cussing everything that had to do with contained environments in space and inadequate air processors.

They came to a halt in the back of the room, in front of a round table draped in dingy velvets and covered in bowls of half eaten food, empty liquor bottles, and scrap bits of electronics. A middle aged man with the same dusky skin as Chang and a set of startling light colored eyes perched cross legged on a stool, back to the corner he was set in and studying a sheaf of papers in front of him. Riddick lifted a lip as their guide bowed low and backed off and he set a part of his mind to tracking the man's heartbeat through the room. There were at least three others hidden behind drapes and one in the rafters. He was crippled by an overpowered nose and the deep thump of a bass coming through the nearest wall, and could only hope there weren't more hiding where his senses couldn't pick them out. Must be a different sort of bar on that side. River ignored them all, though he knew she had to know they were there. Instead, she leaned over the table and managed to find a place to set her hands that wasn't covered in junk. Tilting her head to one side, she let a smile crawl across her face that, if he hadn't been who he was, Riddick would have found unnerving. As it was his animal purred in appreciation and he found himself leaning a bit himself, the better to watch the show.

"Mister Saddler," the girl sang in a low voice. "She's here."

The man lifted his head slowly, eyes narrowing as they met hers. "Yes, I see that Miss Reynolds. And how are you this evening? Run into any bounty hunters lately?"

Riddick had to work to keep himself from tensing. Just who was this prick? What did he know? And how much of a threat was he? He tried to shove all those thoughts in River's direction, but she didn't give any indication of having heard. Instead, she plunked her ass in a nearby stool and pulled what looked like a computer chip from the wide leather belt she'd wrapped around her waist and held it up for the man to see. "No fun," she whined in a voice much more like her own instead of the brassy woman she'd been a moment ago. "Wanted to play."

The man looked at the chip, and then the girl and snorted. "_Fei hua_. Know I don't play with clients girl. But," and for the first time he looked up to try and meet Riddick's eyes. "Seeing as you brought fresh meat, guess we'll have to oblige."

And with that all hell broke loose. Or tried to.

Riddick caught the man who'd dropped from the ceiling on the tip of his shiv, feeling it puncture skin, bowels, and knick the vertebrae as the edged metal passed through the man's side. Yanking his arm free he sheathed the blade and kicked out at the first of the men who'd been hiding in the drapes. He caught him in the kneecap and the guy went down with a cry of pain. Riddick followed him down and a second kick to the throat crushed hyoid, trachea, and everything surrounding. The last two were only slightly smarter; and one tried to distract him as the other brought up a knife the length of his forearm and rushed. He deflected with one of his ulaks, letting his opponent's blade slide along the smooth edge and away, and then punched him in the sternum with the serrated curve of the other. The man choked and gurgled as he fell, and Riddick was just pissed enough to give his chest a firm stomp before moving on to the last one standing. Short and wiry, the guy didn't have a chance to backpedal before a cut to the throat opened him up all the way back to the spinal column.

Growling, not caring who heard, Riddick spun to glare at Saddler and check on River. He almost lost it for real then; the girl was still on her stool, holding a blue and white patterned teacup now, and the man was busy pouring steaming liquid into it. Two strides brought him in arms reach and he swatted the cup out of her hands, grabbed her by the shoulders, and yanked her up to eye level. "What the fuck," he snarled, barely keeping it below a roar. The girl blinked slightly, her eyes glassed, and the smell of nausea filled his nose. Then she blinked again, managed to get a hand up to pat him on the shoulder, and simultaneously kicked him in the hip. Just far enough away from his balls not to drop him, but close enough to tell him that had she been aiming for them he'd find out just how much of a big scary man he _wasn't_, all curled up on the floor and holding himself. He had a moment to blink and wonder where that thought had come from before his jaguar rose up and forced his hands open.

The girl dropped, landed in a crouch, and came up hissing. "No choice!" She gave him a shove in the chest. "Did it to her when she came. Twice!" And now she was shaking a finger in his face, or at least the vicinity of, and it was all steel and nausea in the air around her. "Get it done, prove the worth, and get out." She yanked her hand back when he made a snatch for it. Half of him was aware of Saddler in the corner, watching the goings on with interest, and he knew he shouldn't be letting her spout her crazy talk like this in front of an unknown quantity, but the other half was equal parts fascinated by her rant and coming up with only one viable solution for shutting her up. And it wasn't a solution he was willing to take at this moment. His animal growled in protest, shoved several mental images of how following that particular course could play out into the front of his mind, and turned its back on them all.

The girl was still glaring, but the nausea was fading and there was a hint of vanilla in the air. Just fucking perfect. Giving her one last growl for good measure he turned back to the table, grabbed another one of the little teacups, and found a liquor bottle with a bit of liquid in it still. A sniff to make sure it wasn't antifreeze or some other unnatural thing; and he poured it into his cup, topping it off with the last of the tea in the pot that Saddler had somehow managed to keep from getting broken or spilt. "So," Riddick growled after he'd tossed the cup back and felt its contents burn down his throat. "I pass. Let's get what we need girl and move on."

She sighed behind him as the man in the corner chuckled and reached for the sheaf of papers he'd set aside at some point. Riddick stayed standing while the girl sat again and set the chip she'd been holding in the middle of the table. Giving it a little shove, she glared at Saddler. "Papers now."

The man in question shook his head, but handed them over. She riffled through them, frowning, and Riddick had the idea that she wasn't so much studying the papers as she was studying the man who'd given them to her. He waited, arms crossed, and feeling the blood they were coated in already starting to stick. Cherry on his fucking day. Now he'd have to manage to get cleaned off somehow before heading back to the _Hound_.

Finally she seemed satisfied, tapped them together to straighten the edge, and handed them up to Riddick without a glance in his direction. He took them in the one hand not completely covered in blood and studied the top page. His own face looked out at him, goggles in place, and how had she gotten a hold of that? There was a date of birth, occupation listed as public relations, and wouldn't he have fun getting her to explain that one? And a home planet. Fury.

He nearly dropped the papers. As it was, he raised his head to meet River's eyes as she stared at him over folded hands. For the first time all day he wished the public spaces of this place were as dim as the interior of their ship. He hadn't really wanted to see the crowds any better; but the effect of his glare was muffled by the fact that she couldn't see his eyes nearly popping in rage. For her part, the girl lifted a shoulder, and then reached to take the papers back. He nearly didn't let her have them, but a mocking "Don't get blood on them too soon," was enough to loosen his grip. It wasn't enough to pacify him. He snarled at her in his mind and had the satisfaction of seeing her flinch slightly.

"Something wrong with them?" Saddler had steepled his fingers together and was watching them both very carefully. Riddick was caught with the sudden urge to gut this mother fucker before he could sell them out. It was a look in his eyes, the same Johns had had. The man was trouble.

The girl on the stool seemed oblivious. Heaving a great sigh, she shook her head and tucked the papers into the belt. "No. Should have changed the home planet in the information given. Didn't know he hates Fury." She gave him an indecipherable look and turned back to the man. "Now. If we may have a bowl of water to get the blood off," she gestured at him and surprisingly enough, herself. He hadn't noticed she'd gotten hit with some of the spray. His animal snorted. "We will be going. Will tell Captain Daddy you send your greetings."

The man in the corner twitched a finger and another door slid open nearby. A woman with dark oily hair that hung in long straggles down her back appeared, carrying a large bowl of steaming water. Riddick raised an eyebrow as River swept half the junk off of the table, took the bowl and the towel that hung off of one of the woman's arms and set it down. He caught the towel when she tossed it at him, and started rinsing off as he watched Saddler. Something was off about this, and it was about to come to blows.

Sure enough, the forger sat back on his stool and grinned. "Not so fast little girl. There is the matter of payment after all."

The girl froze. Cool water and steel and that astringent scent he could only identify as sheer insanity worked themselves past the rotten egg stench of the room and wound their way into his brain. Her breath evened, her heart slowed, and he watched as she pulled a blade from her belt and looked at it carefully. She turned it over and over in her hands, running her fingers up and down the length of it as if memorizing its contours. Saddler's heart picked up just slightly, and Riddick heard him draw in a sharp breath. "Payment has already been given," she murmured, and the animal in the man sat up to watch the show. "Accounts have been returned. No money taken."

Saddler snorted and looked back, but Riddick could hear his heart starting to race. "Ain't talkin'n on the money you stole from me girly. That got you papers. The _Hound_ is a great ship. One of the best. An' there's plenty o' hunters out there love to claim her."

Riddick growled and reached for his ulaks. Fuck getting clean. What was a little more blood? River beat him to the punch, literally. She was up and over the table, fist wrapped around the hilt of the blade in her hand, before Riddick had done much more than draw his own and start forward. She landed in a crouch in front of the man and the table rocked, then tipped over completely as she pushed off and laid the sweetest punch right across the man's jaw. His head snapped back and she grabbed a fistful of greasy hair, using it to reverse trajectory and settle herself with her knees across his thighs. She yanked his head back and set the edge of her knife to the man's neck. "No double cross. Can't speak if he's dead. Speak as the living and scream for his life. Whisper around the blood. Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble,"

The man was flailing for purchase, one hand trying for the wrist near his neck, the other reaching for the gun strapped to his thigh. Riddick grabbed for the hands, pinning one to either wall as he leaned over the girl's shoulder. "Better hurry this up girl. Gonna be people heard." He could feel her snort against his chest and forced his mind back to the creep she was sitting on. Man and animal both had come fully awake at her words, and he was starting to think it wouldn't be so bad, kicking around the galaxy with a girl that could make murder sound like poetry. He huffed out a laugh as she stiffened, but it was Saddler who reacted. "Hey, listen, I've got to make money same as you. Pay offs ain't cheap-" he gurgled as she snarled and a thin line of blood trickled down to his clavicle. "Ok! Ok! My lips are sealed. We're even!"

The girl stilled and Riddick waited while she sifted through the other man's mind. He could feel her like a small sun, radiating heat, bloodlust and insanity through every pore and directly into his. The apples and rain were gone. Vanilla a long lost memory and the steel and astringent scent of her lunacy made such a combination that he was about to label it a drug of some sort. The cool water threaded through it the mix, so faint he almost couldn't catch it. His nerves were on fire, his veins burning in a precursor to lighting up like a fucking candle, and he was so hard that he _knew_ he'd have blue balls for a fucking week if she didn't let him pin her up against a wall after this was all over.

She shifted, rubbing a hip against his shaft and he snarled and dropped his head into the base of her neck. "Get it over with girl," he managed to grit out, and it was only by the barest of margins that he kept himself from leaving her a set of teeth marks to rival the scar he'd gotten on his own shoulder. His animal was kneading his mind with its paws and the man focused on the little pricks of pain to distract himself. In front of him the girl lifted her knife to examine the blood on the edge of the blade, and then turned her head to look Saddler in the eye. "Liar," she whispered, and jammed the thing tip first into his exposed throat. Blood spurted around the edges of the wound, and then she was scrambling backwards, nearly knocking Riddick over in the process. The steel was still there, her heart was racing, but the insanity was mostly gone, leaving sour apples and the last hint of water in his nasal passages. He caught her as she stumbled over a dish and set her back on her feet before the animal could overrule the man. They needed to be gone. Now.

"Yes," she hissed, and snatched up the soaked towel from where it had landed in the middle of the mess on the floor. Quickly as she could she wiped off her hands and handed it back to him without looking. She was panting as she stared at the bodies on the floor, and Riddick watched her warily as he ran the towel over his arms. Carefully, as softly as he could manage, he tried to push a question at her through his head. She flinched, but didn't turn to look at him. He tried again and she hunched in on herself, arms coming up to hug herself. "Thoughts don't count," she whispered hoarsely. "Words are immovable."

He sighed and stepped around her to try and look her in the eye. She refused to raise her head, hiding behind a curtain of hair as she shifted on stiff feet. Slowly, because the insanity still hadn't dissipated entirely, he lifted her chin with a finger. "You in there girl?"

She twitched and had a fist halfway to his ribcage before she stopped herself, shaking from her head down to her boots. He eyed the fist. No blade, which was good, but the reflex didn't speak well for them getting through the station to the ship without either getting caught or leaving a long trail of bodies. After a moment she opened her hand, fingers flexed as wide as they would go, and placed her palm over his heart. Cool water rose, and the insanity faded just a bit more. An apple teased at his mind. "He should run," she croaked in a voice more animal than human. "She only brings pain to those around her." She tipped her head back and he followed her chin with his finger before running it down the line of her carotid artery and resting his palm at the base of her neck. Vanilla. Mint. "Witch hazel." She whispered and he tilted his head in question. "Cleans. Cleans the mind of all thought. Drives the blade, guides the sights." Her head snapped forward and she snarled up into his face as she lurched against his hand. "Cut them down! They come for her, the Sasquatch with good and the hunters with sleeping death." Her voice was beyond animal, hoarse and screeching along his ears like broken glass.

Riddick growled and applied pressure to her neck and she subsided somewhat. He leaned forward, following the motion of her body with his own and growled into her face. "Let them come." He didn't know where the words came from. He knew it wasn't the man, not fully. It wasn't the animal either. At the moment though it didn't matter. He'd said them, couldn't take them back. It struck him then, why she insisted on spoken words instead of thoughts for the important things. He'd just committed himself. Maybe not forever, but for now, he'd given his word. It was what he had when it all came down to it. He leaned just a little further, ignored the visions of Caroline being torn from his arms, of Kyra impaled on the spike, of Imam's body in the street below, and let his lips ghost over hers "Don't matter anyways." Now he could feel the ridges of her ear and her hair was a cloud around his face. "I'm just as dangerous to you."

Something in her snapped. He could feel it in the way his animal suddenly relaxed, and every muscle in her body went slack for a moment as she sagged against the hand at her neck. She stumbled forward a half a step before he caught her weight and set her back on her feet. The eyes she turned up to look at his goggles were steady, though wet and her breathing had come back down to normal levels. "By all means," she whispered and he knew that she still wasn't all there by the edge in her voice. It would be enough though, at least till they made it out of this fucking rat's nest. "Let us go."

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much to everyone who's following and faving and commenting! Means o much to me!

Taking liberties here now. Fury in this universe is a terraformed planet, not a gas giant as indicated in the maps of the 'Verse. It's the only way this scene would work. The only way I could get Riddick pissed for the right reasons. Other than that…yes, I'm messing up Shakespeare quotes. I don't understand line, act, etc when people reference it, but she's using the first lines of the Scottish Play. Sort of. Other than that…I think I'm doomed. Got distracted today by plot bunnies. Which is stupid, because the plot bunnies that attacked me are direct spinoffs of the plot bunnies running this particular hamster wheel. I can't be thinking of sequels when I need to finish this!

These universes? Not mine. Geez people, if I owned these franchises, you think I'd be writing fanfic? Or making it into actual movies?

Shenandoah76209: Yeah. Riddick and piles of people. Never seems to end well does it? Pissed off Riddick and piles of people and an annoying Reader on a tin can in space. Even better right? Yeah…this little experiment went very well for him. Next up, more murder and mayhem? At least he's working off some rage. Maybe. Not really. It'd had to reply to all these without totally giving away what's coming up next. Sneaky people you. And update soon! I want to see Mrs. Reynolds meet a P. Furyan!

Rachet: Hahahaha! I win!

Guineverekay: Yay! Glad to hear from you again. I hope this chap explains a bit more why he doesn't like the personality transplants. Unfortunately, I think I've crippled him now for getting along with Kaylee later. Glad I could trip your brain up with "Fiery Death!". Didn't mean to, but now it makes me laugh to hard to fix it in the translations. XD

Translations:

_ching wah tsao duh liou mahn:_ Frog humping sonofabitch

_shee nio: _shit urine (? I found one that says cow sucking too…Gah)

_Fei hua_: Bullshit

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this. Fiery death!

Slip: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.


	11. Chapter 11

Ch. 11

_You tear me down _

_And then you pick me up_

_You take it all _

_And still it's not enough_

_You try to tell me _

_You can heal me_

_But I'm still bleeding _

_And you'll be the death of me_

"Death of Me" Red

It had to be a curse. Murphy's law. Call it what you would, but until this moment, Riddick hadn't really believed so many things could go to shit in such a short space of time. Fuck, even on T-2 there'd been the discovery of the settlement and the skiff to give relief to the string of bad luck that had plagued him from the moment Johns had finally cornered him and managed to stuff him onto that doomed ship. But here he was, getting proof first hand that God was truly out to get him. He hadn't been under any delusions. There was no true night and day out in space and the skyplex reflected that. The corridors were only slightly less crowded, most of the vendors having packed up their wares for the night cycle and slipped off to wherever it was that they hid while a new set of businessmen set up shop in darkened corners, little alleyways; and as previously evidenced, the bars and restaurants that stayed open all night to serve them. River had dropped their pouch of coin down the front of her shirt just before they slipped out of the room containing Saddler's body and he'd gritted his teeth and _not_ looked as she wiggled things around till she had everything situated the way she wanted. There was a slight bump under her belt once she was done, and he figured it was as good a place as any to keep the pouch from getting stolen.

The bigger problem was the blood. Between the surprise attack earlier and her killing the forger, she had it up her sleeve and in spatters across her chest. She'd gotten most of it off her skin though, and it was really the best they could hope for. Himself, he would have to be careful what he brushed up against and hope they could make it back to the docks quickly. The color of his shirt helped, dark enough to hide the evidence, but what with the water bowl that had flown up and drenched him and the attempts to get clean afterwards he was just this side of dripping and hated it. He sent a warning to her with eyes and mind. She tried to take the shower first when they made it out into open space, wasn't a thing in the universe to save her from slow death. He'd just wash her blood off with the rest. She snorted into her hand and crouched deeper into the shadow of the boarded up booth they were currently hiding behind. It wasn't an amused snort, and the look she shot him was serious. He growled in return and tipped his head back to catch a look around the corner. He wasn't even sure why they were bothering to hide like this so close to the docks. The floodlights of the loading bays were burning his eyes all the way through the goggles.

All he knew was that they had been walking, albeit silently and in the darkest part of the corridors they could manage while she explained how her Captain Daddy had introduced her to Saddler the first time she needed new papers for the semi-official adoption by the Captain, and she had been jumped same as Riddick. And then again when she needed her second set of papers under the name Frye. Apparently the forger was not above trying to see exactly who it was who needed such high grade false identities, and hoped to provoke some sort of reaction. All he'd gotten was another set of dead men lying around his little room and a promise that if he ever tried such a stunt with her again, she'd kill him instead. A promise she'd lived up to not half an hour ago. She was amazingly mute though, on what the story with the accounts and the computer chip had been, but he could guess easily enough. For criminals the galaxy over, money was second only to death threats in value of currency, and holding all his accounts hostage would have put a serious crimp in whatever the man had going on besides forging papers.

Riddick had only had a second or so to appreciate her initial strategy, no matter how things had turned out in the long run, before the girl had grabbed him by the elbow and thrown her whole weight into pulling him behind a booth twenty feet from their current position, hissing "Down. Down. They have found the quarry." That had been ten minutes ago, and try as he might he couldn't get an explanation out of her. Her attention wasn't even really on him now. She stared straight ahead, eyes glassy, fingers twitching in unknown patterns on the metal plates beneath her.

Slowly he leaned over and took her chin in his hand, turning her head to face him. Her pupils were blown and her scent indecipherable this close to the rancid grease pooling around the base of the booth they hid behind. He could feel her breath, shallow but even, and her heartbeat under his fingers was a match. He growled slightly, "Getting tired of these fits girl. Mind telling me what's up?"

Her fingers stilled and her eyes focused on his. "Hunters. Third level. Laser sights and tranq bullets. Two on the ground. Don't intend to let her into the gangways. Corner her with no cover in the loading docks. Take the man. Gotta be worth something if he's trailing her." Her voice changed from a hoarse whisper to something more like normal and she frowned. "Told you. The girl is trouble."

He fought down a laugh and sat back, reaching for his ulaks and bringing them around in front of him. "You been trouble ever since you popped outta that cryo box girl." She flinched, and his animal growled a warning, but he continued. "All kinds of entertaining though. Been worth it."

She sighed and turned back to her survey of the docks and their obvious lack of cover. "Should make his choice. Should run."

He snorted and shifted to crouch next to her. "What, take the ship and leave you here for them?"

It had the desired effect. She turned and glared, one hand going for the blade at her hip. "Other way," she hissed. "Can't read half the buttons anyways." And with that she was up, moving out from cover and headed for the next booth. That's when the shit truly hit the fan.

The man she collided with was huge, a mobile mountain in a tattered coat. There was muscle under the fat that softened the edges, and a lion's mane of hair just added to the effect of some sort of legendary giant shrunk down to fit in man's world. Riddick was on his feet and reaching for her before she'd even finished stumbling back and the stranger turned as he caught her shoulder. There was half a second of silence before dark eyes widened behind an impressive mustache beard combination and the man barked a surprised "River?"

In his grasp the girl flinched and cried out. Blood and sour fruit rose in the air and Riddick turned her to see a stain spreading on her shoulder. Her eyes were fluttering and her heart slowing even as her breath raced. "Run," she croaked, and he felt a _push_ of something inside his head as she went boneless.

He knew that later he'd wonder what had possessed him. There was opportunity, beating him over the head. A ship primed and ready to go, the Sasquatch she'd been going on about obviously knew her in a more than friendly way, and looked to be big enough to make a fair shield for her from any further bullets or tranq darts or whatever the fuck they'd hit her with. She'd been shoving him towards freedom from the minute they'd gotten away from the Necros; and it was his own fucked up self that kept denying the opportunities to cut any ties and get the hell out of the way of whatever trouble it was that had gotten her in that cryo box in the first place.

But his animal was laughing at him as the possibilities flew through his mind, and he had slung her over his shoulder and taken off before he even realized what he was doing. The big man with the beard was yelling and trying to block his way, but they didn't have time for delays. Two on the ground she'd said. To corner them. But her leap from behind the booth had given the sniper a chance and the fuck had taken it. That left Riddick not knowing where the others were. Nothing to scent for and too much cover for them to be hiding behind. All he could do was hope they weren't in front because that's where he was headed, pushing past the stranger and dodging his reaching hands.

The shots behind him didn't prove anything. The roaring Sasquatch had pulled a gun as he'd bulled past and nothing Riddick had done had shown any evidence to land him on the side of the hunted instead of the hunters. It made perfect sense for the other man to want to bring him down. He dodged again, crouching low and doing his best to keep to the shadows. Zigging and zagging from one patch of cover to another, Riddick finally ran out of options. Landing with a grunt against the one of the pillars marking the end of the "streets" and the beginning of the loading bays, he shifted the girl around to his lap and took stock. He was, in short, fucked.

The sniper may or may not still be in place. It was impossible to figure out what his line of fire was without knowing exactly where he had it perch. Safe to assume he could cover the whole corridor. The bystanders had, for the most part, run at the first audible gunshot. No one wanted to get hurt, and few were out on legitimate business anyways. It left the street mostly deserted, worse and worse for him. The giant of a man who'd been yelling was still shooting his mouth off, waving his gun around, though thankfully it was at someone else now. Lean and dark, he had his hands up and appeared to be trying to talk the Sasquatch down. Riddick spared a mental snort at how he'd picked up on that particular label. It applied, that was for sure. Movement in the corner of his eye made him turn his head just slightly, and he watched as another man, larger than the other unknown but still wiry, stepped out of the shadows on the opposite side of the corridor. He was moving carefully, checking every nook and cranny as he worked his way down the row. Riddick knew he wouldn't go far if he'd gotten any sort of fix on where the girl had gone down.

Muttering curses in his head, clamping his lips shut on a growl; Riddick edged himself just a bit deeper into the shadows and did an inventory. His ulaks, shiv in his boot, gun on his hip and three more blades in his belt. Goggles he couldn't take off without blinding himself. An unconscious girl who'd practically _begged _him to leave her to the hunters and how fucking stupid had he been not to listen? A quick visual scan over her body netted him two more blades in belt sheaths and at least one more strapped to a leather cuff on her wrist. A pouch of coins-his mind froze and a plan started to form.

The merc across the street was reaching the bottom of his search pattern and the shouting from the Sasquatch had turned into threatening growls as he patted down the second merc, who looked like he wished he'd just shot the man instead of talking him down. Riddick felt his lips twitch up. Either the rules were stiffer for mercs here or they just didn't want to deal with the aftermath that usually came with shooting not-so-random bystanders. The comm unit that the mobile mountain was holding to his lips may have had something to do with it, but if he wasn't careful the second hunter was either going to drop him or have their sniper do it for them.

Quickly as he could without making any noise or letting any part of him emerge from shadow, Riddick tore at the laces of the girl's belt and unwrapped it. A yank and he'd gotten her shirt pulled up enough that he could reach under and grab the bag of coin. Her limbs flopped as he shifted her around to his shoulder again, and he wrapped his free arm around her thighs to pin her in place. One last glance around the pillar to judge the distance between him and the alcove that guarded the _Hound's_ hatch, another to get a final lock on the enemies, and he hefted the bag. Sirens were starting in the distance and he snorted to himself. Apparently paying off dockworkers and authorities only worked so long as people weren't shooting. Fine by him. He planned to be gone when they showed up.

The pouch of money made a satisfying noise when he threw it as hard as he could, over the heads of the Sasquatch and the merc and a good ways beyond. As one, their heads jerked in the direction of the clattering coins as they rained and skidded over the floor. The merc on the other side of the corridor brought up his gun and ran for the booth the bag had landed behind. Riddick was already rolling his himself around the pillar, back into the shelter of the other side, and sprinting for their dock. The sniper must have seen him though, because something whistled past his head and at least three different voices starting shouting. There was another gunshot and he ducked instinctively. But either it missed or it wasn't aimed at him in the first place. The running footsteps though, they told him to get his ass in gear and find cover before someone really was aiming for him.

He made it all the way to their berth and down the short gangway without further incident, not even stopping to catch his breath as he plowed into the hull of the ship with his unburdened shoulder. He pounded on the entry pad with his fist as he set the girl down and propped her against his leg, grumbling to himself all the while. Stupid fucker, he thought to himself as he pulled his gun and leaned up against the wall. The wiry merc was the first one who made it around the corner at the other end of the ramp. Gun up, he eased past the half wall that sheltered the alcove as if he expected Riddick to have moved further on. Did they even know which ship to check? Could he not hear the cargo bay opening?

Apparently not. There was a comm stuck in his ear and Riddick could hear the shrieking curses coming through it from where he was standing. It'd be enough to distract anyone. It was enough to kill the man. Riddick grabbed a shiv from his belt and threw. Wrong handed and weak, it still sent the man down with blood burbling out of the hole in his throat. The hatch exterior and interior hatches had opened enough now, and he lurched for the girl, grabbing her by the shoulder and practically throwing her through the gap just as the second merc came running up. Riddick flinched as a bullet ricocheted off the hull next to his head. His ears rang with the combined noise of the gunshot and metal striking metal and he snarled. A second later the merc dropped, the back of his head and bits of his jaw painting the deck beneath and behind him red. Still growling, Riddick stepped back into the ship, toed the girl's legs out of the way, and hit the button for the doors from the inside, He was ready for the giant to come and was fully prepared to ghost him too. Guns weren't as fun as knives but they had a shitload of advantages when it came to range. He could see the man, huffing and bright red as he came around the corner into their dock, but his gun was at his side and he seemed more frustrated than murderous. Riddick grinned at him through the clear panel set into the airlock doors and had the satisfaction of seeing the man's skin turn several different shades of enraged before the exterior hatch closed and the man was lost from view.

One breath, that's all he allowed himself before holstering the gun, bending to scoop the girl into his arms, and sprinting for the cockpit. There was no time to stick her in the infirmary; he didn't want her tossed around the bay if he had to get creative with the flying, or if the controls just plain decided not to obey. He had a bad moment when he realized that he couldn't prop her in a corner and holding her in his lap wasn't going to let him reach everything on the console. Growling, he glared at her, but she didn't respond. He roared at her in his mind. No answer.

Muttering curses on himself, women in general and River in specific, he set her in the pilot's seat, nudged her knees as far apart as they could go, swatted his animal back towards its hole, and sat down on the edge of the chair. It made it a little awkward to get to some of the levers and toggles he needed, but he managed in the end. One ear on her breathing and the other listening for the sounds of anyone trying to get into the ship before he was fully free of the dock, Riddick's hands flew over the control panels. He jerked in surprise when the comms hissed and a voice came over the speakers, but it was just port control, confirming his departure. Evidently no one had told them yet about the bodies he'd left outside, and they unlatched the restraints holding the ship against the skyplex without question. He did however, get a burst of Chinese for the speed with which he left. He guessed it was bad manners to hit the gas right out the dock. They could go fuck themselves for all he cared.

It took some doing and a bit of educated guessing but he picked out a course, set the autopilot, and stood so he could get a better look at the girl. She sat there in the chair, rumpled, bleeding from a shallow penetration wound to the shoulder, skin still luminous and hair still dark. He rumbled out a growl as he ran his hands over his head; and some part of his mind that wasn't really in the present noted that he needed to find a razor or resharpen a shiv and take care of the short fuzz that was starting to make itself known. It both was and wasn't something he had time for now. What the hell had he just done?

River woke in stages. It was quiet around her, no mass of minds with all their thoughts and worries pressing up against hers. Just one, with its own cares and angry mutterings. But it was still a pool of calm water, so deep that it would take great force to stir what lurked at the bottom; and she almost took refuge there. Until her muzzy brain caught up with her instincts and she started picking out individual thoughts. That was enough to send her heart off in an attempt to race and her breath to catch. That in turn led to the owner of the mind noticing that she was waking up and coming over to rest a hand on her head. She supposed it was a valid excuse, last time she'd regained consciousness around him there had been screaming, clawing, and bruises to the cranial region on both ends. With a hand on her head not only could he tell if she were fevered, which she laughed at in her mind until she caught the memory of how he'd dug the shards of the tranq bullet out of her shoulder, but he could effectively keep her from any of the antics she'd performed the first time. At least she wasn't chained down. She may have had to hurt him for that. And he may have liked it.

As it was she didn't have to do any screaming. There was only his mind and hers on the ship, and they were too far from any populated place that could have echoed its people's thoughts to her. She lay still, letting her body catch up with her brain before finally opening her eyes and meeting his. She would have called it _deja vu_, but she was still lacking a few points of comparison. For one, no heart monitors. He could do that himself. For another, the aforementioned lack of chains. And lastly, he had no interest in intimidating her at the moment. In fact, his thoughts were such a roil of confusion that she was having difficulty pinning anything down from one second to the next, much less any long term plans.

Neither said anything for the moment. She had questions. Many of them. But choosing one from the pile of options and deeming it most important was proving hard with the drugs still in her system. She could feel her mind fraying around the edges and panic started to set in. A fit was not what she needed right now. She needed to be coherent, a real person instead of the mad puppet. But she couldn't focus, couldn't set her feet on one path and keep her attention _there_ instead of on the myriad other words and thoughts that teased around the edges. Not for the first time she cursed his nose and overdeveloped ability to scent. And she blessed it. He may be able to smell the confusion and charcoal coming off her, but at least he couldn't read her mind.

She wasn't having any success with keeping herself mentally upright, and knew if she'd been standing she would have fallen over immediately. Frantically she cast about, needing something to anchor herself to. In his mind, the animal sat up and growled. It was mad at her for not seeing the obvious. At him for the tension that had been winding up in his body since her heart had started to race. Panting, she threw out her metaphorical arms and wrapped them around the jaguar, burying her face in its shoulder. It purred, a low rumble that vibrated through her down to the bones, and she whimpered in gratitude.

Just not mentally.

She could feel it come off him like a tidal wave as he yanked his hand back. Worry. Anger. Arousal. The emotions slammed into her mind and she cowered in the shelter of the jaguar as it bared its teeth and hissed. The man faltered and growled back, but the tide ebbed and somehow he managed to pull it all back inside, where it couldn't overwhelm her. She was imminently grateful to both halves of the whole for the relief; and she took the opportunity to try and get her own thoughts sorted, to find the most important of the questions in her pile of options.

She wasn't sure if it really was the most important. There were others, such as "Where are we headed," and "Did you break the ship?" But it all boiled down to one really, and it popped out of her mouth before she was entirely aware that it was going to. "Why," she whispered, and then coughed. Her throat was dry, and speaking wasn't advisable.

He covered his reaction by picking up a glass of water nearby and helping her sit up so she could drink. His hands felt good, huge and warm on her back, gently on her head as he braced it while she lay back down. His long fingers ran through her hair as he drew his hand away and she wanted to tell him to leave them there. But she was too focused on the answer to the question and she tried to deflect the thoughts bubbling beneath his surface with a clarification. "Will be just as wanted as the girl now. Wouldn't run. They will report. He has killed in her defense." It was true, she could see the memories, the satisfaction he'd felt at having taken the mercs down. They really had been truly stupid, between taking the shot early, allowing Monty to distract them, and not expecting Riddick to be willing to kill them. She wished she'd gotten a chance to Read them before losing consciousness. The information they'd had on her would be vital to her long term survival. And now his.

He was rumbling deep in his chest as he tried to come up with an answer for her. She felt the jaguar rise from its protective curl around her and begin to pace in response, its eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring as it focused on its man. She wanted to crawl over and lay her ear to that chest. To stand upright and proud in his mind instead of curling in a ball and waiting. But she sensed that if she pushed in any way, she'd never get the truth. He'd say something hurtful. Maybe still truth, but the harshest truth possible. If that was what he ended up going with in the end, she could bear it, but she wanted it to be his choice. She always had.

She knew it the moment he realized, the minute all his mental turning and running and diving for cover failed him and the truth as he saw it reached up and hit him over the head. The jaguar may have had something to do with it, the suddenness at least. It had moved away from her, entirely focused on the man, and perched in the tree above his head. She bit her lip on a giggle when it swatted him in the face with its tail simultaneous to him reaching his logical dead end. The man narrowed his eyes at her in the dim of the room and she endeavored to look innocent. She didn't think he'd be impressed with her visual interpretation of the goings on of his mind. In fact, she suspected he'd spit out one of his ugly truths instead of the one he'd just found. He watched her carefully for another minute or so and she did her best to drag herself from the comfort of the jaguar's den. She managed, for the most part.

His words were a surprise, distilled from the jumble his brain was giving him. "Don't know."

She wanted to cry.

She nearly did.

He knew. He knew she'd heard his mind. He was lying and telling the truth, all at the same time. He had discovered that he wouldn't leave her. Couldn't. Not willingly. He'd fight tooth and nail to keep her with him, mow down a thousand more Reavers, a thousand times a thousand thinking men, if it meant he didn't have to break the ties that had formed between them. He even had an inkling of _why_, all wrapped up in events going back to the first man he'd killed for a girl he wouldn't name, even in the relative safety of his mind. The jaguar kept that name for him. She'd known that it had been a figurative age ago that he had put together the pieces of why she kept trying to push him away, but he hadn't left, even then. He'd been willing at that point to wait for a while, to see if she'd force the breakage. But there, in that corridor, with her doing her best to make a final attempt to get him to go, he'd refused. For the last time. She'd have to shoot him and dump him out the airlock to get him to let go now.

But none of it passed his lips. He didn't want to admit it. Not to himself, not anyone. He was Richard B. fucking Riddick, Furyan, escaped convict, murderer. Not a lap dog; not on a leash. Nobody's pet. And as hard as he'd fight to stay with her he was fighting equally hard against the idea of being tamed.

Little did he know she didn't want him tamed. She wanted the animal. The man. The rumbling mass of muscle that on some days would be just as happy to tie her up and leave her in her bunk rather than let her take the shower first or let her dance her feet raw again. She wanted the man who'd bandaged those feet, glowering all the while. The man that left food out for her when she missed a meal. The man who'd picked her up in that corridor when there were four people all intent on taking her from him at gunpoint and every reason in the world to leave her lie and haul anchor. He could have had the ship to himself; his mind wouldn't be open to poking and prodding. No more wrenches thrown at his head. He'd be free.

His voice surprised her, so wrapped up in her thoughts had she been. "Couldn't leave you."

And then he was there, mouth warm, lips both soft and hard. He was trying to put everything, all the conflict and realizations, into the kiss; and in River's opinion he was doing very well at it. She could feel him shoving it all at her with his mind as his lips moved across hers. He gave, he tried to show, and he demanded in return. He demanded acknowledgement, not only of himself as a man, but of the jaguar and the whole they made between them. Flawed, imperfect, conflicted and violent, he'd chosen to tie himself to her. And she in return, did her best to push her acceptance back at him. She knew the jaguar was transmitting some of it to the man, but she also knew that the clinging of her hands as she grasped the arms he'd braced to either side of her head and the effort she was putting into levering herself up to meet the kiss and return it full force would have to do for now.

It was also not enough.

She pulled back, feeling him follow her down until she tipped her head to one side and found his ear with her teeth. His body went rigid and a groan slipped past his lips to vibrate through the shell of her own ear, and she forced back a smile as she whispered. "Words are stones."

He snarled and pulled back, halfway across the room before she could blink. She lay there, still too much of the tranqs remaining in her system to allow much movement. Anger radiated off of him like a small sun, and she knew he was moments away from a brilliant display of his Furyan bloodlines. It crossed her mind then that she'd like to see what could only be found in his memories, and the temptation to push him that one step further was almost overwhelming.

Sanity reared its head and slapped her down, and River had to bite her lip as she fought for control of her mind. It was the tranqs. It had to be. Not the man in front of her, beautiful as he was dangerous. She wanted his lips back on hers, his hands on her skin, in her hair. But most of all she wanted the words. He hadn't truly decided, not in the way a course was plotted, with calculation and an eye on the end goal. He'd reacted on instinct, merging with the animal to become _Furyan_; and as much as she wanted him there was still a nagging fear in the back of her head, taunting her with the fact that as long as the words remained unspoken he could beat down the jaguar and choose the course of wisdom. Of leaving her and saving himself. She didn't know if her heart could handle it, taking him at his mind's word and not that which came from breath and larynx and lips and tongue. She wondered momentarily what Book would have thought of her requirement of proof, the story of Thomas lurking in the edges of her mind. She had feeling that in the end, he would have understood.

Riddick on the other hand, was walling himself off so effectively from her, dropping down into the pit where he'd kept his animal, that she might as well have been trying to read a blank wall. Whether he knew it or not though, his outward appearance was giving him away. The dim light did nothing to hide the admittedly impressive bulge in his pants, and his jaw clenched as his hands worked themselves in and out of fists. Vein were popping out everywhere, and his skin was a curious mix of enraged red and the faintest glimmers of cerulean. He was glaring, head down between his shoulders like a bull about to charge, and the silver of his eyes gleamed at her like he wished he could just incinerate her with them.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that. She realized at some point that there was the sound of one breath for the two bodies in the room and his animal laughed in her mind before it shoved the thought in the man's direction. It was enough of a shock that it snapped him out of the haze of rage and confusion mixed with lust and too many other emotions to name. For a second, for just half a breath, she thought he was going to come for her again.

But he was in too much turmoil to read; and so when he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, she nearly cried out for the surprise and pain of it. Her breath hitched and she clutched at the bed when he paused at the sound of it, but the man, the Riddick, didn't turn his head or speak. Step after careful step, he left her. And while her heart of hearts was breaking in pieces around her, the weapon couldn't find it in herself to blame him.

**Author's Note:**__ I win. I do! There's evil laughing going on over here. I just can't help it. As always, I love reviews. In fact, I thrive off them!

These two and their cohorts and their worlds? Not mine. Much as I wish it otherwise, I won't get a red cent from any of this and nobody would believe me anyways if I tried to claim them.

Shenandoah76209: Took your advice. Tried to give a bit of backstory here as to what River was up to in the last chapter! Hope it makes sense! Pretty soon we'll start getting better translations from Riddick. Once he pulls his head out his ass that is. I think its wedged up there pretty good at the moment. Looking forward to more Animals! (Yes. Stuck with Riddick in a boat. Mmmmmm)

Elliesmeow: Hey! Thanks much for the review! Glad you're liking it so far. Did they meet who you thought they might meet?

Sweet Anise: Well…here's another chapter. XD So glad you're liking it so far. I love your story. I wouldn't say you've neutered Riddick. You're just using a different cultural backstory than me. He makes sense in context. Looking forward to more of JoH! And to hearing more of what you think about this one! Always value opinions!

Ratchet: Hello again. Yes. I'm loving throwing things at Riddick's head. I think River likes it too. Keeps him on his toes

Translations:

No Chinese! I fail! Just couldn't find a place to put it in. Silly River, thinking so much…

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this. Fiery death!

Slip: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.


	12. Chapter 12

Ch. 12

_I cut my bangs with some rusty kitchen scissors_

_I screamed his name 'til the neighbors called the cops_

_I numbed the pain at the expense of my liver_

_Don't know what I did next all I know, I couldn't stop_

"Mama's Broken Heart" Miranda Lambert

He burned. His veins. His nerves. His skin. From the inside out he was burning. He knew from the shifting light in the room that he was lit up like a candle, ghostly luminescence swirling under his skin in time with his heartbeat. If he'd had a mirror he could have seen the handprint on his chest, brighter than the rest of the glow. And, he suspected, a lip print on his forehead. He never could tell where dream ended and reality began with the Furyan woman who talked in riddles that were even more confusing than River's. At least with the girl he could usually piece some sort of whole from the bits. He snarled and sat up, scrubbing at his face like he wished he could scrub her from his mind. It wouldn't work though, he knew it the way he knew Shirah had been trying to shove him the direction she wanted ever since he'd first woken up with silver eyes and a violet cast to his vision. Her latest words still hovered in his ears as he took a deep breath and willed the glow away. Stones building a wall, blood to cement it in place, a job half done. What the _fuck_ had she been talking about anyways? Cryptic bitch. He hoped River never met her in his head. He had the feeling that the two of them would get along like fire and a draft of pure oxygen and he'd be the one incinerated in the blast.

Fucking women.

It called to mind another question. How the hell was he going to do this? How was he going to last on this ship till they'd reached their destination? He'd done his best to plot a course for the dot on the system map named Haven, wanting nothing more than to find a place for Kyra to rest and get the fucking hell away from this ship, from River. From the girl who'd crawled up inside his skin and made her home there; sinking hooks into parts of his heart and mind that he'd sworn never, _never_ to let anyone have a hold of again. But she wouldn't have him without _words_ and that was a line he was not prepared to cross. He'd stayed, gotten her to safety when she went down. Killed for her. Every reason in existence to leave her there and take the ship. Get the fuck out of the way of the trouble that seemed to follow her wherever she went. Ever since she'd popped out of that cryo box, she'd been a magnet for it.

But he hadn't been able to follow through. And now he was stuck back on this boat for who knew how long, all the while breathing in apples and rain, hearing her heartbeat and her breath, knowing that she knew he'd kill for her again. Over and over if need be. He'd decimate the known planets for her because he couldn't fucking _not._ He couldn't not want her, want her near, want her under him, want her to try and kill him some more when her mind snapped. She _knew_ it. He was no good at blocking her and he'd been doing anything but since she'd woken up again.

And still she wanted the fucking words.

But he couldn't make himself do it. They wouldn't come. He couldn't open himself up to that, to the chance that she'd take those words and the intent behind them and be the one to leave. She still hadn't given him an answer to his question, and the possibility that she'd take her chance, take the opportunity to get away from the trouble that followed him just a truly as it did her was enough to lock his jaw on the words his animal had tried to force up past his lips. He wouldn't do it. He refused to take the risk. Better to burn up from the inside out than watch her walk away.

The glow wasn't going away. In fact, if past experience was anything to judge by, it was getting worse. Almost to the level of blasting out of his skin and frying anything in range. Wouldn't that just make his fucking night? Was he a walking EMP? Could he fry the whole ship? He was half tempted to go down to the engine room and see. Or to the bridge. Some place with a lot of really vital electronics that he could- he yanked his head up and the wrongness in his ears finally registered with his brain. The ship was powered down. Almost completely. The engine wasn't running and he could only barely hear the fans moving air through the ducts. He hadn't noticed at first because he'd never turned on the lights when he came aboard, and the beat of his own heart in his ears had pretty much drowned everything else out. Growling, he headed for the door. If the girl was up and about, let her get an eyeful. At least the clothes he'd slept in covered up most of it. Maybe it would finally scare her off. His animal gaped its mouth and panted out a laugh at the idea. He snarled in reply.

The girl was nowhere in sight. He couldn't hear her heartbeat in her bunk, and there were none of the telltale noises in the galley either. He poked his head into the bridge on the off chance it would net him some information and the half hope that he'd find her curled up in the pilot's chair like he had so often before. She wasn't there, but he did get a couple hints as to what was going on. The screens were all dimmed down to their lowest setting, none of the engine readings showing. Instead there was a timer on the forward most part of the console, numbers ticking backwards and little icons and characters pulsing slowly. He snorted and leaned in for a closer look. Shrunk down in the lower half of the screen, below the timer itself was a star chart. It was too small for him to be able to make out any names, but it didn't look anything like the one he'd been using to set course for Haven. He stood back up, eyes narrowed and thoughts racing. What had she done? What the fuck was going on here?

He stepped back out of the bridge and into the hall that ran back to the cargo bay, turning thoughts and possibilities over in his head. That's when he noticed, as he looked at the darkened hall, that even the little emergency lights down near the floor were out. And he'd stopped glowing. Probably because he'd set aside his rage in the attempt to come up with an explanation for the engine being down. He gave a mental shrug and kept going. Not like he wanted to be a beacon anyways. He liked the dark better. The light in his veins was, in the end, more of a liability than an asset. 'Sides, he had shit to do.

In retrospect he should have heard her. At least from the bridge. The man gave the animal a look that suggested it was entirely its fault, but the big cat merely blinked its eyes and returned to cleaning a paw. It wasn't until he entered the bay itself he noticed that the heart he'd been subconsciously monitoring for the past week or so had taken up residence there. And not in a metaphorical sense either. A high pitched keening noise mixed with the occasional harsh breath was the next thing he noticed and he aimed a glare at his animal, silently demanding that it get off its metaphysical ass and give him some help. The animal ignored him. Which, part of him said, was only what he deserved for trying to take its match from it. He growled and shoved the thought aside as he scanned the bay for the source of the noise and the owner of the rapidly beating heart.

He found her in the corner, along the wall in a patch of shadow so dark that would have almost hidden its occupants if he hadn't been the one looking. As it was he could make out a figure kneeling at the head of the box, curled in on itself and resting its forehead on the rim. He was halfway over to her before he knew he'd moved; animal and man unified in their goal to do whatever was needed to get River to _stop_ crying like that. He could smell her now, and he had a moment to wonder at how his senses had shut down before he was there, crouching next to her and inhaling deeply. No apples. No rain. Enough wet earth to form a bog with the salt of her tears. That was all he got, and try as he might he couldn't pick anything else out of the mix. She was muttering between breaths, and he couldn't tell through the keening if it was Chinese or Common, but something told him it didn't matter. Her heart was racing far above anything he'd heard from her so far and just as he reached a hand towards her she drew another of those great shuddering gasps, lungs kept from expanding fully by the position she was holding. Her entire body was taut, every muscle defined, delicate veins standing out on her temples. He stopped just short of touching her. It was a commitment, one he'd promised not to make after he'd stalked out of the infirmary that afternoon and gone to lock himself up in his bunk. He'd planned to come out only to eat, and the hell with her if she tried to get any sort of interaction out of him before they reached their destination. And yet here he was, out of his bunk, all set to try and get her to stop crying. Some heartless dick he'd turned out to be.

He waited for her to notice him. For her to pull her blades and launch herself at him with death in her eyes. For her to turn and compromise herself, to throw that lithe beautiful body into his arms and accept that he couldn't say the words. He just couldn't. Not now and maybe not ever. He didn't bother to try and shield his thoughts, but neither did he try to push them at her. She'd picked them up easily enough in the past and he expected her to do the same now.

But she ignored him. It was as if he didn't exist, wasn't next to her. Wasn't even on the same ship. She didn't smell of insanity, either the kind that led to rambling or the kind that led to blood and dancing. It was as if she was so far gone in her grief that she couldn't even look outside her own mind. She seemed locked there, oblivious. And he had the sinking feeling that if he got up, walked back to his bunk and came back the next morning he'd find her still curled up in this spot, crying and whispering as she clung to the coffin. The imagery disturbed him so much, of his River, the woman who'd challenged and threatened and mocked him every step of the way from the Necro ship to the skyplex crying herself into something much more permanent than sleep as she clung to the memories of _his_ dead, that he had picked her up and drug her into his lap before he even knew what he was doing.

The man froze, yelling in protest as the animal leapt down from its tree and stalked over to give the girl a sniff. She didn't seem to notice any change in position beyond turning her face into his chest and grabbing for the arms that surrounded her. He let her cry like that for a while as he warred with himself, animal and man circling. They were each trying to protect her, although it was for different reasons, and they were each trying to protect themselves. The animal said what it had always said: that she was their match; that he should take her and claim her and let her know who she belonged to body and soul. The man wanted the same, but he wanted to have an out even more and as Riddick felt the argument between the two unfold in his head all over again he growled in irritation. This was getting him fucking nowhere.

Swallowing the growl, he laid a hand on River's shoulder, feeling it shake and quiver as she drew in another breath. "River," he murmured, and she jerked in his arms before going still. Shakes gone, gooseflesh crawled under his hand as she panted out short breaths and clutched even harder at his arms. He waited, hoping she wouldn't decide to come up fighting. He wasn't looking forward to any more bruises and her fists, while small, were _hard._ But it turned out he shouldn't have worried, because while her heart had given an extra hard thump and restarted itself, the girl herself didn't show any indications of moving. Or even responding. Sighing, he tried again. "River? You in there?"

Her reply was nearly his undoing. "Riddick," she croaked through lips so dry they'd cracked and bled. Her hands clenched convulsively and he could feel her nails biting into his skin. He wrapped his arms tighter, the better to hold her, the better to keep himself from doing the unforgivable. If he held her like this he couldn't lay her out on the deck beneath him and truly earn himself a place in the worst of hells.

And then she was off again, whispering words he could finally make out. "_Runtse de shang dee, ching daiwuhtzo… Woushang mayer, maysheen, byen shr to!_ Please God make me a stone, cut out this heart and turn my mind. _Wuo dwaynee boo woon, boo jen..._don't want to see or hear!" He lost the rest in her mumbling in a haze of self-directed rage. He didn't need to know what half the words meant. He could take a fair guess.

And it was all his fault.

He'd gotten people killed before. Killed some himself. Killed a lot himself. Proximity to him usually led to death. He'd lost count of the fellow prisoners who'd tried to get out of Slam with him and died. Cannon fodder he'd called them, just like the Necros who'd come with him to this fucked up end of the galaxy. Far fewer were the people who'd attached themselves to him that he'd made a true effort to keep safe, going so far as to park his ass on a chunk of ice for five years just to draw the mercs away in one very memorable instance. And had it made a bit of difference? Imam had betrayed his location with the best of intentions. Kyra had signed her own death warrant when she went looking for him. Caroline had come back for him, wrapped her arms around him and hauled him to his feet. Put herself between the light and the raptors and died for it. For him. All the way back to childhood, he could count the people he'd made an honest effort at trying to save and protect on one hand. And they'd all died for knowing him. And now here was the latest, a girl who had kept up, who was just as much a threat to his life as he knew he'd be to hers, who hadn't been taken down by a blade or a raptor or even a real bullet. And he'd done it again, saved her, gotten her away from the mercs, picked bits of bullet casing out of her shoulder and wrapped up the wound. Was is the mercs who'd finally get her? No. It was, like all the rest, the degree to which he cared for a person that decided their death. And River, shaking and crying and whispering in his arms, wasn't going to go out in a blaze of glory. She was going to die of a broken heart, right here in front of him.

And it was his fault.

The arguments of the man against their position had ceased, worry and anger overcoming all else. The animal had drifted off, and looked like it was hunting for something in the corners of his mind. He let it. His instincts were usually what sparked plans and drove him to survival. Maybe they could come up with something to break the girl in his arms out of the trance she'd fallen back into. He waited, mulling his options, trying to shut his ears to her cracking voice, and let his fingers trace circles over her shoulder and tangle in her hair. He didn't know how long he sat there. There were no indicators of time in the ship. No lights, nothing. Just darkness and tears.

Finally his animal came back and nudged the man's hand before dropping the thought into his head. His mouth opened before he could stop it. "River. Tell me what's wrong."

He almost thought it hadn't worked. She didn't respond at first. And then, after another long gulp of air, she spoke. "Don't know what to do. Don't know where to go." Riddick opened his mouth to reply but she was off and running. "The girl is broken. Not wanted here. Can't go back to _Serenity_. They will pity her. Know that she is broken and crazy again. _Ge ge_ will want to put her back on meds. Wrap her up in chains of love so she never is lost or hurt again_. _They will smother her. This is what she fears." She shivered and curled even tighter in on herself. "Better anyway. There were bombs on Mother, to drive the girl out of cover and into their arms. Bombs and her family would have died. How can she bring that back to them? They may still die for knowing her, but if she could draw the hunters…"

Riddick growled, more at himself than her, and dropped his head into the cloud of her hair. There was nothing in her scent, still, of anything but wet earth and tears, but her heart beat had slowed marginally and she seemed to have her breathing a bit more under control. "Do you want to go back?" It was all he could put together while his mind turned the rest of her words over and over.

She stiffened. "Miss them," she cried, and buried her face back in his chest.

His animal growled, the man leaned forward. Riddick worked his fingers a little deeper into her hair and waited for her to surface for air. When she did he tilted her head back and forced her to meet his eyes. "Broken don't mean crazy," he growled. "You put yourself back together before, right?"

Hesitantly, she nodded. Still feeling the breath rumbling in his chest and wanting to go and kill every single person who'd made her feel this way, himself included, he gave her head a little shake. "Then we pick up the pieces and make you whole again. Take it one step at a time. You got me?"

Her eyes went huge. Her mouth gaped. For a moment she looked like a normal human instead of the genius psychic that gave him more lip and more dirty looks than was safe for anyone's wellbeing. "We," she asked in a tiny voice, cracking and hoarse as her fingers inched their way up his arms.

He tried to ignore them, focusing instead on the eyes and lips currently searing their way into the back of his eyes. Leaning down to set his forehead against hers he nodded. "We. Can't leave you River. Can't seem to make myself." He pulled back a little to see her face entire. "But you gotta answer the question. What do you _want_?

He thought he knew. He hoped he knew. He hoped that she wouldn't pull herself together long enough to make the wise choice. To make the smart decision that would probably break him just as badly as he had broken her. Her eyes scanned his face, flitting back and forth as her hands crept up over his shoulders and came to rest just under his ears. He did his best to shove his thoughts, emotions and all, towards her; letting her see that all of his worry, self-hatred, anger and regret was a small price to pay if it kept her hands on his skin and those eyes on his. How could he have been so stupid?

She snorted out a laugh, and although there was still a tightness around her eyes and her muscles hadn't entirely relaxed, he decided to take it as a good sign. Until she opened her mouth to speak again. "Words are stones," she whispered, eyes deadly serious, face stern.

He jerked in place as they drove though him, deep into his brain, past where even the animal made its home. The air around them lit up and he nearly groaned in realization. In his arms River twitched, pulling back far enough to see that it wasn't just her imagination. He was glowing again. He shot her a look that told her that any comment, any joke, would mean he'd have to make her regret it to the end of her days. Which probably wouldn't be too far off considering the circumstances. She snapped her mouth shut and clamped her hands over it for good measure before nodding. Grumbling internally, Riddick reached for one of the shivs tucked into his belt and hoped what his animal was showing him would turn out to be right. Trust Shirah to try and stick her nose in his private life too. Bitch.

Bringing the blade around in front of him he took one of River's hands from her mouth and laid the hilt in her palm. "Here are your words River. You are my match. _Mine_. My fucking _match_. You keep up and sometimes you make me keep up with you. Never met a person who could do either. You see _me, _not the convict, not the murderer," he glanced down at the shift and play of light under his skin. "The glowing freak of nature." And he cocked an eyebrow at the giggle that burbled past her lips. "The man that will let you lead him around this fucked up galaxy by the nose and you are _damned right_ I will fight tooth and nail not to lose you. And we'll take this one step at a time, even if it means you want to go back to the fucked up little family of yours. I may kill them all in their sleep, but I'll try putting up with them first." Then he took her hand and the shiv in it, leaned back to give himself a little space, and laid the edge of the blade against the inside of his arm right over the artery and pressed until blood welled. "Words are stones girl," he murmured as he let go. She kept her hand and the blade in place, eyes flicking from it to his face as he continued. "Build a wall with them. Mortar it with blood." And he gave a mental shove in her direction of everything Shirah had dropped into his mind with the kiss to the forehead that had woken him.

River sucked in a breath, held it, moved the blade of the shiv a quarter inch to the left and drew it down his arm in a long steady stroke. Riddick felt his lips twitch at the pain, and he noted in some detached part of his brain that the blood still glowed a little before it ran down his arm and dimmed. He didn't have time to think on that though, because she was pushing the shiv back into his hand and bringing it up to her arm. Startled, he stared at her and she stared back. Her eyes were still wet, her cheeks glistening in the glow, and her mouth set in a firm line. He couldn't look away from those lips, cracked and bleeding as they were, even as they opened and the words poured out. "My match," she hissed and pressed his hand down till he could smell her blood. The wet earth was fading into cool water, apples and rain over the top of that. "Mine." Her eyes burned into his as she gripped his hand tighter, driving the blade a little further into her skin. "Don't fear me. Never have. See the crazy, the weapon, the girl. Never treated her as broken. Never pitied. Keeps up," her lips twitched slightly. "Makes her work to keep up with him. With the Riddick. _Dong ma?_"

His animal shoved something at him he assumed was some sort of translation for the last phrase, but he wasn't paying much attention. His whole world had narrowed down to the girl in his lap; her eyes, her lips, her everything. She'd let go of his hand and it took him a second to realize she was waiting for his answer. He growled, feeling it in his bones as his fingers clenched around the shiv. He didn't have the control, didn't have it in him to stop if he did this. Carefully, more for the sake of not losing what was left of his mind and jumping her right there than out of any worry he'd cut her deeper, he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "You know what comes next River. Last chance to avoid it."

He could almost feel her sifting through his mind, through the things he wanted to do to her. The things he _would_ do to her. The man had given up any semblance of protest and waited with a disturbing amount of eagerness. The animal was twitching its tail in anticipation. Vanilla threatened to drown him and her heart raced as she turned her head to growl in his ear. "Do it Riddick. Build the wall. Mortar it with blood."

He shifted the blade just enough that it would miss the artery and pressed, dragging it down her forearm as quickly as he could before dropping the shiv and grabbing for her elbow. He yanked, feeling the cut on his arm burn as it rubbed against the edges of the one down her's and he brought his lips down on hers, engulfing them with his own and making her _his._ She moaned and reached her free hand up to the back of his neck, pressing herself up against him and bringing him as close as they could manage with their torn and bleeding arms between them.

What followed was only to be expected. Tearing his lips from hers to trail them along the line of her jaw, he breathed her in, matched his heartbeat to hers, and lost himself in the sensation. She moaned, shifting around till her legs straddled his hips and her center pressed against the length of his shaft. He groaned and bit, sucking gently on her ear before moving down her neck to her clavicle. She gasped again when he took it in his teeth and her free hand clenched convulsively on his neck before sliding down his shoulder and ribcage, leaving a trail of fire against his skin even through the cloth. Her fingers teased and played around the hem of his shirt as he nibbled and sucked his way from one collar bone to the other and then back up her neck to her ear again. She was panting now; breath coming in little sobs as she moved against him in a way he _knew_ wasn't intentional but may as well have been calculated to drive him absolutely out of his mind. He found her mouth and took it as he wrapped his free arm around her hips and settled her even more firmly against him.

The blood was still dripping from their cuts, and he could almost feel her moving in his mind like she was moving against his body. The man had let himself go, the animal was rumbling in satisfaction and triumph; and as the last bit of rational thought left his control he had a moment to wonder at the third presence that seemed to have made its home in the animal's tree, perched on one of its broad branches and burying its hands in the thick fur before her. The mental image was lost though as she writhed against him again and yanked her bleeding arm free. He growled a protest against the curve of her shoulder and bit gently. Her breathy laugh tingled in his ear as the fingers of both hands worked themselves up under his shirt and spread across his diaphragm.

Suddenly he didn't care so much that she'd taken her arm back; it let him use his now free hand to rip her shirt down the front while the other found its home in the small of her back and the divot at the base of her spine. The open shirt brought up a whole new set of possibilities, and he leaned forward, running his nose down her neck, pausing to lay a kiss in the hollow of her throat before continuing down to the valley between those small round breasts. He ran into a snag there, finding a bra where there shouldn't have been one and he rumbled in frustration, grabbing it in his teeth and yanking before he'd really thought about it. That earned him another laugh and she reached back for the hand he'd been using to keep her center matched with his, guiding it up her spine and to the clasp between her shoulder blades. Something whispered in his mind, half a taunt about how long it must have been that he didn't remember how to undo a bra, and he retaliated with a mental growl and a snap at one of the nipples still covered in fabric and out of reach. He almost ripped the back of the bra off, but he finally managed to get the clasp undone with fingers that had never been clumsier.

He was about to start working the straps off her shoulders when she surprised him again, lunging forward and clamping small teeth around his jugular as her hands rose under his shirt and did her best to drag it over his head. He had to let go of his hold on her to raise his arms and help her get the thing off him. He didn't need it anyways. She had to quit biting his throat though, and her hips ground against his as she rocked in place to catch her balance. It set the blood rushing and nerves fast forwarding messages to his brain that he really didn't need to have explained. As soon as his hands were free he bent her over backwards, fingers slipping under the torn edges of her shirt and shifting it down, over her shoulders and along her arms. She moaned and bucked her hips against his and he groaned a wordless reply, trailing lips and tongue down her stomach till he reached the waistband of her pants, then along it till he found an exposed hip bone. She shuddered as he worked it over, letting his hands run back up to her shoulders, pausing to finger the insides of her elbows when he noticed that a touch there got him another moan.

The blood was still dripping from their arms, and he could taste it on her skin. Combined with her sweat and the scent of vanilla in his nose he figured it for the best kind of overdose imaginable. There was something new in the air as well, a spicy musk that made him think of things that till now, had only existed in his mind. Cinnamon, nutmeg. Warm fur. An image unfolded in his brain of a huge black jaguar, imminently pleased with itself, laid out over a smaller form and nuzzling it behind the ear. And then the image was gone, lost as River bucked against him again and her bra could finally be tossed off to parts unknown so better attention could be paid to those breasts that had been taunting him for who knew how _fucking_ long. She giggled at the thought and he couldn't bring himself to care as he took first one and then the other nipple in his teeth and ran his tongue over each in turn. She stopped giggling and let out a little shrieking gasp of surprise as her hands came down to flutter over his arms as they wrapped around her back and he let his fingers creep under her waistband. Bits of lace were found and he growled in frustration at yet another obstacle in his way.

He could feel her, in every way, as he left two pert nipples tight in the air and nibbled his way back up to her neck. She was giving off elation, anticipation, surprise, and a thousand variations of the three that he couldn't even name. He took her throat in his teeth and brought them together just _so_ before returning to her chest and rubbing his jaw along her ribcage. He didn't know where the action came from. He didn't care. She was groaning under his him and he could feel her want and need vibrate right down to his bones as the sound moved from her body to his. And then she was scrabbling her hands down the front of his neck, her fingernails leaving trails down his chest as she curled herself up and in and he could feel her muscles flex before the motion of her made him raise his head to get it out of the way. Her fingers ran once under the waistband of his pants, catching slightly as they slid past his tip where it was shoving its way out of confinement before she settled on the snap and broke it open.

Next thing he was aware of she'd eeled out of his grasp and lunged; sending him tipping over backwards as she rode him down, one hand down his pants, the other bracing herself on the deck as she took a mouthful of pectoral and bit hard before sucking and letting go. He roared, less with the pain and surprise of having his head impact with the deck and far more in response to what her hand was doing to his dick. There were no barriers there, and her small fingers wrapped themselves around his length before drawing up towards the tip, resting just at the base of his head and dancing over the most sensitive bits.

He was groaning now, rumbling deep in his chest, and she breathed out a laugh over his abs as she inched her mouth down his stomach. Her other hand trailed down his arm, past the cut, over his fingers and out of his reach to land on his hip. She dipped her face and her tongue flicked out to tease his head. He was still trying to catch his breath when she let go, grabbed his pants in both hands and pulled. The lights on the ceiling quivered and pulsed in time with his racing heart and breath as she crawled back up his body, and he'd never thought that small breasts dragging up his legs could do thing things to him that they were currently doing. His mind went completely blank and he couldn't even visualize the animal he knew was crawling its way out of his bones for all the vanilla and musk and sheer _need _that pulsed through and around them.

He found himself a few moments later as she laid herself out over him, lips on his, tongue pushing into his mouth. He joined her in the exploration, memorizing her from the inside out as she did the same. She'd centered herself over him again, and the rocking of her hips against him as she writhed in his arms was going to be his undoing if he didn't remedy things quickly. Dragging his fingers down her ribcage, cupping her breasts in his palms briefly before continuing down her stomach, he found the tie that kept her pants up. It was the work of a moment to undo the knot, and a lurch and a twist and he was over her, staring down into those dark eyes as he cushioned her head against the metal of the deck. She locked her ankles behind his back and bucked once, demanding, before lunging for his throat again. He let her catch it, groaning as shockwaves ran through his skin before managed to drag himself away and along her body. Lips and tongue and fingers, he worked himself down her neck, collarbone, breasts and ribs, down her sides, biting gently till he reached her hipbones and the edge of her pants.

He could feel her legs around him, and the heat of the small furnace at her center and she twitched and quivered and cried out in a language he didn't know. He pressed his face to her mound, finding the nub with his nose and he nearly got it broken for his trouble as she shrieked and bucked again. He held her down with his hands at her hips and got out of the way before she could snap his neck with her thighs. A growl worked its way out of his chest, up his throat and through his lips and he leaned back down, letting it rumble against the damp fabric. And then, before she could nearly kill him again, he hooked his fingers over the waistband, found the lace of her underwear as well, and _yanked_, pulling back and taking the last of her clothing with him.

He tossed the offending pile of cloth off somewhere and took a moment to look down at her, skin a special kind of luminous and hair spread around her head. Her eyes were huge, lips swollen, and the aureoles of her breasts drew his gaze as they rose and fell in jerky little bobs while she lay there panting on the dark floor. He could see it when she decided to sit up and canceled the action by meeting her mouth with his. She rolled her hips as his length found her center again and cried out against his mouth. He bit her bottom lip in reply, reached down with his bleeding arm to cup her mound in his palm and then rocked his hand, just a bit. She shrieked again and her back arched as she clutched convulsively at his shoulders.

Just as she came up for air and a demand for more that he didn't know how he knew was coming, he slipped a finger inside and rolled his hand again. She was wet, hot, and tight around him and it was all he could do not to replace his hand with his dick and finish what they'd started right then. But he could feel the resistance, the proof he hadn't needed that she'd never done this before, and he wasn't such an asshole as to not at least _try_ to be gentle. Although if she kept moving like this under him, all bets were about to be off. He could feel her, with every nerve ending. Her heart beat inside his skin and he could feel his breath in her chest. He didn't know if it was because he was still glowing or what, and frankly he didn't care.

Another finger, another shriek, and he chuckled, knowing it would infuriate her. She responded in kind, reaching down and grabbing his tip with her bloody hand and rubbing a thumb around its edge. He was well served for teasing her, and he bit back a cry as his hips moved forward of their own accord. She rose to meet him with her own, blood and other body fluids mixing as his fingers got pushed deeper inside and his thumb managed to find the nub inside her mound. He rubbed it as she had him and leaned down to catch her mouth in his as her eyes crossed and she lost her voice. Her other hand was down there now, and she was trying to yank him out so she could make put something entirely different in her instead.

He let her, growling against her jaw as she managed to guide his tip to her entry. She jerked her head around and glared at him when he paused, and he laughed as he trailed his hand down her side, leaving a wet sticky trail where he touched her. She was about to try and bite him again, and he slid his hips away from hers as she tried to buck upwards and impale herself. Catching her before her ass could drop back the deck, he held her there as he slid forward and in, and he tried to close his ears to the gasp of pain; but at the moment _everything_ was loud, from their breathing to sound of skin on skin to their hearts as they tried to beat their way out of chests suddenly too small to hold them. Something moved in his head while he hung there and waited for her to get used to the feeling, something very like a hand running through thick fur from head to tail as a warm body stretched out next to his. Satisfaction was a hum up the spine, followed quickly by a burst of need so strong that he was startled into motion.

She lurched to meet him as he lunged forward and somehow she ended up back in his lap again and he was surrounded by her, buried to the hilt in her. She jerked reflexively as he ground his hips forward and the pace was set. Fingers in hair, arms wrapped around ribs, and lips leaving burning trails across skin, they lost track of where one body ended and the other began as their hearts matched and overran the tempo of their movement as their bodies tried to keep up. There was fire under the skin, and he didn't know if it was just him glowing or if she was too and he didn't care because they were finally there, fitted together like puzzle pieces. His match. Hers. Meant only for each other and the rest of the universe could go and burn for all he cared at the moment. She rose and fell against him, breath coming first in little sobbing gasps, then a high keening shriek as she climbed higher and higher. He bucked against her, using his hands and arms to add momentum to her movement, and growled against her breast as he nipped and sucked at the soft flesh and followed her ascent.

He didn't know. He'd never know. They came together, her shrieking his name so loud it seemed to ring inside his skull right down to that place past where his animal lived, him roaring hers and his skin flaring brighter than a small sun as she clenched and shook to pieces around him and he tried to find new depths in which to bury himself in her.

Minds overloaded, brains shut down momentarily, and when they both came back to themselves they were still slick with blood, sweat and their combined fluids as the residual seeped from between her legs. He didn't care. She didn't care. Unthinking, moving on instinct alone, they leaned forward to whisper one phrase into the shell of the ear in front of them.

"_My. Match._"

**Author's Note:** So. Whatcha think? About time eh? I nearly tried to put this off for at least one more chapter, but I just couldn't come up with a good reason why. The problem had been presented, a solution needed to be found or they'd both go nuts and I really didn't want to have to write about them nearly murdering each other again, cause I figured that's where it would end up.

Apologies to those who are not fans of lemons (myself included). I would have put up more of a warning, but that would have given the game away. I hope this turned out ok. I tend to skim lemons a lot of the time, and I've never ever written one before. But this is the only way I could see this going, and there are important nuggets of info in there, sandwiched between all the steamy goodness. Don't expect the UST to go away though. Things are no fun without a little of that. And the story is FAR from over. It's just now, they're moving on side by side for the most part, instead of dancing around each other. And don't expect Riddick to come over all gushy right away either. He's still got his pride after all, and River loves her mind games.

I've been thinking of sticking up a listing of the scents Riddick gets off her and their emotional equivalents. What do you guys think? Or do you want him to keep translating in story for you? 'Cause eventually he'll be so used to them he won't bother to tag them.

AS ALWAYS: NONE OF THEM ARE MINE! BPthththh!

Lizziebug: Yay! Monty! Figured we needed him in here somewhere. Poor man, caught with his pants down like that.

Ellisemeow/Guest: I do wonder what Mal will say. Probably won't be anything good though. Thanks muchly for the feedback! That kiss was a beast to write!

Guineverekay: Yay! You're back! We may or may not see Badger. I've actually got Saffron in my head trying to worm her way in, but I'm thinking sequel for her. Just can't fit her into the storyline. Can you imagine if she tried to pull the wool over Riddick's eyes?

Rachet: Hey hey! Thanks for the PM! I am trying to get these out as quickly as I can. Every time I stop getting fresh reviews for a day or so I start editing another chapter ;)

Shenandoah76209: Glad you liked it. Didn't want to give too much, but you were right. It needed to be in there. And hey, here's Riddick, head out of his ass. Didn't take long did it? Too bad he needed Shirah to stick a set of jumper cables to his brain to help him figure it out. Like I said. KING of De Nile. I don't think it's misinterpretation though, so much as sheer pride and willful blindness. I don't pretend to understand him, I just write about him!

Flaming-amber: Whoooo! Thanks for ALL the reviews you gave me! Made my day! Just about fell over laughing at the one for 11. But hey, suspense over. For now. Still plenty of story left to go. So glad you're loving this. Hope to hear from you on this chap too!

Translations:

_Runtse de shang dee, ching DAIwuhtzo:_ Merciful God please take me away

_Woushang mayer, maysheen, byen shr to: _I will close my ears and my heart and I will be a stone

_Wuo dwaynee boo woon, boo jen:_ I neither see nor hear you...

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this. Fiery death!

Slip: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.


	13. Chapter 13

Ch. 13

_Maybe I'm the one_

_Maybe I'm the one who is the schizophrenic psycho (yeah)_

_Maybe I'm the one_

_Maybe I'm the one who is the paranoid Flake-oh_

"Psycho" Puddle of Mudd

It was the clunk of the engine turning over that woke them. Gears moved, fans started to spin again, and a steady hum vibrated through the deck and into his bones. Riddick's mind gathered itself, cataloging the chill of the metal he was laying on, the warmth of the body stretched over his, and noticing that the lights had turned on. Barely. But they were lights of electricity and plastic instead of his blood glowing, so that was a good thing. A string of numbers ran through his thoughts, calculations on time drifting, time to destination, and possible angles of atmospheric entry given the plane of approach. He turned them over, curious, but more interested in the small movements of the girl on top of him and the reactions she was bringing to the fore. And then a phrase blasted into his head, ricocheting around like a bullet. ::The Riddick glows blue!::

He roared in surprise and clutched at his head, trying to figure out where it had come from. ::What the _fuck_,:: he asked himself and River shot upright over him, hands over her ears and mouth open in a silent scream before she curled in on herself and rammed her skull into his diaphragm. He gasped for breath and did his best not to roll over and tip her onto the deck as stars exploded behind his eyes and his jaguar hissed at them all.

::Oh no,: : a small voice whispered in his head, and he turned his head to stare at the snarl of dark hair spreading up his chest and burying him in her scent. Sex. Apples. Rain. That spicy musk he couldn't name.

Her bare shoulders were shaking, and he lost himself a moment as he stared at the bruises and teeth marks on them before pulling enough scraps of his mind together to ask. "River?"

She erupted, toppling sideways before he could catch her and curling up in a fetal position on the deck as she laughed until she cried. Grumbling at the loss of her warmth on his skin and fighting the sinking feeling in his gut, he levered himself upright and ran his hands over his head as he tried to make his mind function. Was that really-? Did she really-? What had _happened_?

"B-bo-bonding," River stammered out between gasps for breath as she tried to sit upright and failed spectacularly.

He caught her before she could bounce her head off the deck and tipped her chin so she could try and look him in the eye. "What now?"

She took a huge gulp of air, tried to hold it, and lost herself to the giggles again. Riddick growled. ::Not funny River.::

It didn't help. If anything it made her worse. ::Sorry! Sorry! But he wanted it! A way-:: and she was stuttering even in her mind as her thoughts dissolved in mirth. Sighing, Riddick reached over, caught her by one arm, and pulled her back into his lap. His skin burned where she touched him, and the gooseflesh on his arms wasn't from the chill. Sternly he told himself to back off, not that any part of his subconscious ever listened, and tried to make the man rule the animal. He succeeded, partially. She was his now after all, and they'd have her under him again soon.

River's laughed trailed off as vanilla bloomed in the air again and she turned to nuzzle him under the jaw. He growled at her, but it wasn't serious and they both knew it. "Now," he said, and tried to ignore the ear she laid on his chest and the feel of her hair on his skin. "You laughing 'cause we can hear each other's thoughts or because I glow blue?" He tried to look deadly as he said it, but he knew it wasn't working. Although if it turned out she was laughing at the glowing, he had several things in mind to torture her with in retaliation. Most of them involved going back to his bunk and not coming out till it was leave or starve. Hell, why did they need to stay in the bunk? They had the ship to themselves didn't they? A giggle against his chest drew his attention back to the girl and he scowled. ::What's so funny?::

Her lips twitched and she tried to cover them with her fingers. He snatched them up and eyed them, shoving visions of his first targets of torture at her. She froze, and answered in a mock timid voice. "The speaking?"

He waited. He'd come to know this girl. When she didn't answer, he took the pad of her thumb in his teeth and worried it gently. She gasped, writhed, and tried to take the hand back. "The blue," she gasped, before curling up and starting to laugh again.

Riddick growled and started down the side of her thumb towards the wrist. ::Don't need my mouth to speak now,:: he sent at her. ::Opens up all sorts of ways to torture you if you want to keep laughing at me.::

::No,:: and her voice was serious even as she shifted so she was facing away from him and his length was pressing against the small of her back, his legs to either side of hers. She ran her free hand down his thigh, and he bit harder on the wrist. She gasped and twitched and he decided he loved being able to make her move involuntarily. ::Beautiful is too tame a word for it. Glorious. Right. Alpha Furyan, last of his line.:: She tipped her head backwards so she could look him in the eye and he let go of her wrist long enough to meet her gaze before reaching for her shoulder with his teeth. Her words were dropping into his mind like stones in a still pond, echoing something through man and animal that made both halves of his self sit up and take notice. And then she wiggled backwards into him, lifted her hands to trace down the back of his neck, and neither one of them thought in words for a very long time.

It was a chiming that brought them out of the haze that surrounded them. Riddick heard it first as it built in volume from a quiet bell to near klaxon-like proportions. At least to his ears. Groaning and rubbing her temples, River sat up next to him. "Apologies," she muttered. "Will never mock his hearing again if this is what everything sounds like."

He laughed and sat up next to her, running a hand up her back and letting it come to rest at the base of her neck. "Gonna have to find a way to block some of this. Not," he murmured as he kissed her shoulder, "that it doesn't have its uses." And he grinned at the way her eyes glazed in remembrance of knowing the sensations of both bodies, just where to put the hands or the mouth for this or that effect, of twining together as they reached the climax. It was enough to set him off again, and he could smell the damp between her legs as her body answered the call.

But the alarm was drilling a hole in his skull and he had half a mind to go tear the bridge to pieces so he could never get interrupted again. River shot him a _look_ before sighing and scrambling to her feet. He followed the line of her body with his hand as she stood and clamped his fingers around her ankle once in warning before letting go and taking the outstretched hand she was offering to help him up. He laughed again at that, as she set her weight in counterpoint to his, and sent her a mental image of a kitten trying to get his animal going by shoving at it with its nose. She retaliated with the kitten biting the jaguar's tail and running and he conceded the point. He was too relaxed to be pissed anyways.

He was not, however, so relaxed that he didn't enjoy the view as they padded down the hall towards the bridge. At least, he enjoyed it until he noticed she was limping slightly. He pushed the question at her and she groaned and clutched at her head. "Quieter please," she muttered. "Easier to hear directed thoughts now and sudden sympathy with the clapper of a bell has been found."

He laughed and picked her up, slinging her over one shoulder while she shrieked in surprise. "Every time you yell like that? In my ear? Now you know how I feel." She snorted explosively but didn't complain as he crossed through the hatch, ducking so as not to scrape her off on the sill, and kicked the chair around so he could drop her into it. She however, stuck out her tongue before turning it so she could reach the console.

When he tried to turn it back she clung to the edges of the desk and braced herself against the motion. ::The feet are fine. Not the reason for limping:: Riddick tilted his head to the side in curiosity as he felt the embarrassment in the words while burnt sugar rose in the air. This new trick of theirs was turning out to be all kinds of interesting. So interesting in fact, that he didn't fully process her statement for a good minute or so.

He barked out a laugh when the pieces fell in place, and leaned over the back of the chair the take a handful of her hair and tilt her face so he could meet her eyes. "Don't plan on walking straight for a while then."

River laughed and reached up a hand to squeeze his before going back to what she'd been doing. Riddick didn't mind. He could smell apples and rain almost drowning in vanilla wrapped up in silk. He could _feel_ the satisfaction and anticipation rolling off of her and through him. His animal, the jaguar, was purring and the man relaxed in a way that had never happened before. He wondered at it, the ease in which he was taking this new development in stride. Before the Quasi-Dead had ripped through his mind and taken memories he didn't know he'd had he would have sworn that it wasn't possible. After, he would have sworn he'd kill anyone who managed to get so close to him that the two halves of his whole dropped their defenses so entirely. And here he was, with a girl he'd known barely a month taking up residence in his head, literally, and he in hers. He had the feeling that now, if he couldn't find her up there, he might not be able to keep his sanity and wasn't _that_ one for the psychologists to figure. Good for him he never planned to see the inside of any sort of prison again.

In the pilot's seat, River giggled and he looked at her for an answer. She didn't look back, saying only "She feels the thoughts. Like water over stones in a brook. He still thinks loudly." She flashed him a grin before bringing a star chart up on one of the screens. ::We will have to learn to wall any thoughts we wish to keep private.::

Just for that he picked her up, right out of the chair, kicked it around to face him, and sat down before dropping her in his lap.::'Sat so,:: he asked as he pinned her in his arms and squeezed.

She huffed out a breath and wiggled in an attempt to get free. "Got work to do," she muttered halfheartedly as she tried to bring an elbow to bear on his ribs. He squeezed a little tighter and started nibbling his way up her spinal cord. She stilled, breath stopping momentarily as vanilla and spicy musk overpowered everything in the room. He felt her in his mind, a sudden excitement. A wariness. Frowning, he stopped teasing and turned her so he could see her face completely. She was glassy eyed, and he couldn't tell why for sure. ::River?::

He almost thought she wouldn't answer. Hadn't heard him. But eventually she blinked and met his eyes. "Everyone deserves privacy of thought," she whispered. "They wanted to know hers. Made her know others'. Without the right to think to one's self, the whole universe would be prisoners. Even slaves may have their thoughts, but take that away and what are we left with?"

The vanilla had faded, to be replaced with apples and rain and just a trace of lemon. It didn't smell right on her at all, especially with the blood and evidence of sex still left on her body. Lemon had no place in her scent, and he was gripped with a sudden desire to never smell it on her again. Or else find whoever the fuck made her smell like that and rip them limb from limb. He'd take the former but the latter was a pretty good solution in his opinion.

"Can't," she whispered. "Can't do away with them all. They are the power behind the Alliance. Everything we touch leads back to them. Blue Sun," she shuddered. "Manufacturers, businessmen. Food, clothing, mines, engine parts, fuel cells. Have a hand in it all. Funds their researches and armies. Don't need Parliamentary oversight because their funding doesn't come from governments. It comes from the people." She was shrinking in on herself now, hands coming up to cling to the arms around her. "Two by two, hands of blue. Sonics and tranq bullets. Trigger words and behavioral coding." Lemons and charcoal filled the air around them and he could see her in his mind, up in the tree with the jaguar and her face buried in its fur. It made him want to kill something, even as she shook her head. "Topple them and topple the 'Verse. Run run run little rabbit, down to your hole."

Riddick growled and turned her so she could curl up against his chest. "Fuck them," he muttered. "You aren't a rabbit. You're predator. A queen. A hunter. Take your pick, but you aren't a fucking rabbit. We have to run then fine, been running most of my life. But they try to take us, they'll see Hell. Tween you and me, figure we can kill anyone and anything."

She stilled at that, and he realized she'd managed to wall a bit of her mind off from him. He could feel the thoughts turning over, jagged as broken glass, but he didn't know what they were exactly. Finally she sighed and laid her head back so she could look at him. "And if she is triggered? The weapon is incomplete. Safety problematic. More akin a grenade than a rifle. Imminent bloody death may occur if he stays in proximity when it occurs. And it will eventually," she was tracing patterns into his skin, over the myriad scars that covered his arms and torso, leaving behind trails of fire in her wake; and he growled when he realized she was trying to distract him. Carefully as he could while still making his point, he caught her hands and thought at her to _stop_. She rolled her eyes, but her scent and emotions didn't change. "Nearly killed Captain Daddy last time. Would have. Would have killed him and taken out as much of the city as she could reach before they put her down. "

Riddick snorted and let go of her hands so he could lift her up and around to face him directly, privately reveling in the feel of her legs on either side of his again. Taking her face between his palms, he forced her to meet his eyes. She was trying to stare down, at the knotted fingers she was twisting together. ::Look at me River,:: he said, and her eyes jerked up in surprise. "You're an idiot. Words are walls and blood is the mortar," and he dropped a hand to run it up the inside of her arm and alongside the cut there before pressing his own wound to hers. He could feel the blood rushing, throbbing in his veins in a precursor to the lightshow, and the pain of the cut was nothing on the fire that came from being near her. "Not going anywhere, even if you try and kill me." He grinned. "You couldn't take me anyways."

She glared at him and sent a storm of images, all of them ways in which she could kill him. Just with the things here on the bridge. Then she rocked her hips against him and leaned forward to lay her mouth next to his ear. "You'd lose," she whispered. It was both the right and the wrong thing to say in her position, and his arms locked around her and crushed her close before she could get out of the way, his head turning and his mouth catching hers as he squeezed the breath from her lungs. She replied by rocking forward again so that her damp center found his shaft and applied pressure. He groaned and dropped his hands, reaching for her hips. But she wouldn't let him move her, locking her legs around the chair to keep herself in place. And then, just when he thought he'd gotten her loosened up enough to pull her back and then impale her, she laughed against his mouth. ::No sex on the bridge. The _hwoon dahn_ really might be a walking EMP. Does he truly wish to risk frying all of the computers?::

Riddick ripped himself away from her mouth with a snarl and gave her a look that, by all rights, should have incinerated her. "Fucking tease," he growled, and started to stand, but she still had her legs locked to the chair and now her hands were off his skin and gripping the back of the seat. For a moment he considered out muscling her. It was entirely possible. But it set a precedent he didn't like so he stayed put, still growling in frustration as he shoved his train of thought in her direction. Let her at least _know_ what he could do and wouldn't.

She flinched just slightly, but grinned anyways. ::Need to finish setting course anyways. Have been drifting without power for a day and a half. Need to make true headway before we are found and assumed to be available for scavenging.::

He let her get up; enjoying the view she gave him of the lithe body, covered in blood and fluids as she was, and realized with a start that he was still covered in the reminders of the night and the morning as well. How had be missed that? The smell of dried blood should have been the first thing he noticed. Then River turned around and sat on his knees and he forgot about the blood. She laughed, out loud and in his head, and he decided suddenly that it was probably the best sound in the world. Second best. His name on her lips was the best. She laughed again and got him to help turn the chair to face the console again before going back to what she'd been doing. He watched her for a moment, feeling the calculations surface and fade in her head as she muttered and typed and flipped toggles. Her scent had gone back to apples and rain, sex and old blood underneath.

There was something off in her mind though, something like a gun with its sight just a hair out of place, or a badly weighted blade. He wasn't sure how to figure it out yet in her head, even with his jaguar standing by him and watching curiously. This was all too new to be able to go poking around in her thoughts as easily as she seemed to go through his. So he sat forward, set his arms around her waist and along her thighs, and peered at the screens over her shoulder. She tilted her head just enough for him to see them clearly before hitting one last button and leaning back with a sigh. "River," he asked, loading all his questions into the one word. She didn't answer for a moment, and he could smell malt start to rise in the air. It was odd, smelling exhaustion when they'd just woken up from several hours' sleep, but he didn't want to comment on it just yet. "River, where are we goin?"

"Persephone," she said finally, voice resigned. "At first. Skim the White Sun, duck through Georgia." She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "You set a good course. Straight for Blue Sun and Haven. But Nav Sats can track and there were many interested in the bodies left on the skyplex. At our front door. Will have to lose them. Hopefully have, by drifting with no power."

Riddick frowned and ran a hand up her arm. The name was familiar, but she'd never given him much more than a vague idea of where it was. The ease with which she spoke of it made his hackles go up. Her mind was blank to him, her scent full of something he could only label as apprehension. The irony of something smelling on her exactly as it smelled on others was lost on him as he listened to her heartbeat rise slightly. "Fuck," he growled. "You were leaving." Rage built, overflowed, and built again. It was all he could do to stay in his seat, and he clung to the armrests and felt them crack under the grip he _refused_ to transfer to River. He couldn't tell through the red haze if he was mad at her for planning it or himself for driving her to it. His animal was back in its tree, laughing at the man as he tried to reach it.

River was up and facing him before he knew what was happening; arms crossed over her chest and glaring bloody murder down at him. It was a measure of how far gone he was that the sight of her naked body did nothing to cut through the hurt and anger coursing through his veins. The light in the cabin was starting to shift and he knew the handprint had lit up again. He cursed; growling out unintelligible words as he anchored himself to the chair so he wouldn't stand and fucking shake this girl to pieces.

She kicked him in the shin. "_Fuh ur-tze_," she yelled. "What should she have done? _Shee-niou_!" And she kicked him again. "Stayed where she wasn't truly wanted?" She was snarling now, words he couldn't have understood even if he'd tried, and he realized after a moment that while her lips were pulled back over her teeth, her mouth as a whole wasn't moving.

Steel cut through his rage like fire as her own swell of anger and hurt washed over him. His animal growled and dropped down onto the man, pinning him and setting its teeth over his throat. He took a deep breath, felt the pain in his leg where she'd undoubtedly left a bruise, and tried to sort out which emotion belonged to which personality. The lights died down, and then the handprint was just a bare ghost of a reminder of the unreasoning animal rage that had gripped him. He was still pissed. Incredibly so, but he had to admit that it was mostly at himself. She was right. He'd refused her. And just as he'd been trying to figure out how manage the rest of the trip while stuck in the ship with her, the same thoughts must have been going through her head. Except she'd had an out. The rage built again, but he tamped it down. It wasn't going to help anything. How could he really blame her for having decided to take the opportunity to leave? To get away from him and everything he'd represented?

Groaning, he pried his fingers from the armrests and dragged them over his face. Fuck it all anyways, why was he angry in the first place? She was his now. And he was hers. "What would you have done," he asked, it being the only thing he could piece together as a sentence for the moment. There was still freshly sharpened steel in the air, and her heart was thudding in her chest in time with his own. But he could feel her in his mind, poking and prodding at the thoughts he was letting surface and slowly, inch by inch, the tension was starting to drain from her body. She looked more defensive now than angry, but he could deal with that. Just so long as she wasn't kicking him anymore.

"Uncle would have work for her. She is very good at what she does. He has been offering side jobs for years." She shrugged and looked down at her feet, still bandaged; he made a mental note to be sure they got rewrapped soon. They were filthy. "Or could find another ship. Eavesdown Docks full of them, many don't check papers. She is good crew."

Riddick snorted and put the last of the pieces together in his mind. The man was well and truly pissed at the result. He wondered for a moment why it wasn't the jaguar, the animal instinct that tended to drive his more powerful emotions, that wasn't ready to tear things apart while the man sat back and watched the show. Then he realized; the animal knew. Her blood and his. The mortar in a wall that surrounded them and could shut out all others. Even her crew. And she'd made her choice last night, given him words of his own to help with his half of the fortress. The current set words still needed to be said though, because it was an issue that needed to be dealt with eventually. Neither would be able to run from it forever. "And maybe find your crew, your ship," he rumbled as he tipped his head up to meet her eyes. The glow of the screens around him, not so bad earlier, was starting to burn his eyes. But he wasn't about to shield them as he waited for her answer.

She shrugged and looked uncomfortable. It was the first time he'd ever seen her try and avoid something, and he nearly laughed at the expression on her face. The steel had faded from her scent, leaving a confused mess behind, and a careful poke at her mind only earned him a flinch and a glare. He scowled and crossed his arms. Finally, shifting from foot to foot, she nodded. "Or find _Serenity_. She wasn't sure. Just…" She shrugged again and sighed, breathing apples and rain and wet earth in his direction. "Went to ask Kyra," she whispered when he didn't say anything, and hunched her shoulders.

And there it was. Or she rather. River was still determined to find a resting place for his self-proclaimed sister; and to tell the truth he didn't want to just dump her either. The guilt wasn't quite as bad, but she'd still trusted him. Come looking for him. Landed herself in Crematoria and died because of him. Of all the people who'd ever latched onto him, she'd been the most tenacious. Worse than Caroline. Worse even than River, who'd spent so much of her time trying to get rid of him and who had very nearly fooled them both into giving up.

Riddick sighed and reached for her, taking a hand and pulling her forward until she either had to sit back down or fall. She resisted for a moment before perching on one of his knees and crossing her arms again. He cocked an eyebrow at her and laughed. ::Still looking for a fight.::

River glowered at him before turning to look out the forward viewport at the stars that stretched through the sky around them. "There is an eighty seven point three percent chance that _Serenity_ will be docking on Persephone in the next three days."

"And how long will it take us to get there?"

She shrugged and he could feel the calculations run through her mind and back out, faster than he could catch or even identify them. Her eyes tracked back and forth as she read them, and her scent settled further into the apples and rain, only a touch of wet earth now. Some mint too. In the part of his mind still his own Riddick sighed. She was looking forward to seeing her family just as much as she feared how they'd see her. Odd that she wasn't worried about what they thought of him. He let that drift to the surface, just to see if she caught it. His animal, back in its tree now that the excitement was over, just laid its head on huge paws as the man leaned back to observe.

Calculations complete, River turned to look back at him. "At current speeds, four days, ten hours, twenty minutes. Depending on angle of reentry, traffic around the planet, and weather. At full burn, could make it in two days, four hours. However, that would cut dangerously into fuel supplies. If for some reason sudden departure was needed or landing could not be achieved we would be, as some say, up shit creek." She ignored Riddick's bark of laughter and continued. "Besides, it is only a _chance_ that Captain Daddy would be there. Only a chance he'd stay long enough for them to arrive. She can feel him; he hunts. He hates being dirtside."

River's eyes had glassed over and charcoal and fire rose in the air. Riddick growled at the change. He couldn't feel anything from her mind. It was like she wasn't even there. "She's not," the girl murmured, and he jerked in place, surprised. She tipped her head to one side, but her eyes weren't seeing the bridge. "She flows with the river, listens. Hears. The Riddick's thoughts are loudest because he is closest. Because they are bonded now. But she hears others. Millions. She hears the man on Lilac who lost his daughter to Reavers. The elder on Harvest as he lays dying and repenting; his name means 'Sorry' after all. The Alliance officer didn't believe in Reavers till he brought a fresh ghost aboard and it started tearing the faces from his people. And her crew. Captain Daddy hunts. He plans. He will kill to get her back if need be, step over a hundred bodies, and let his hired gun loose with the knife if that's what it takes to find the girl."

Her scent swirled, fire building, lemons crisping around the edges; Riddick laid a hand on her leg and did his best to push as much calm at her as he could muster. She took a deep breath. "_Ge ge_ counts vials and readies needles and prays she will not be insane when they find her, that she won't be broken again. Does not want to," and something of the lemons faded, to be replaced with cool water and steel. "Doesn't want to say the words, but will if he has too. Woman with a stone heart cleans her gun and checks her shells. Will shoot if her Captain says so. To kill the girl if she is dangerous again." River grinned suddenly and the charcoal and fire vanished as she looked down at him, meeting his eyes directly. "But if the River gets to her first, tells her not to shoot the _shiong-mung duh kwong-ru_, she will argue the Captain down." She leaned closer and set her forehead against his. ::They will still think she is crazy if they see her with the Riddick. Wonder if he holds her prisoner.:: She laughed and he tilted his head in unspoken question. ::She will have to convince them that she has merely found a new kind of pet.::

"Right," he grumbled. "Pet." That tore it. Standing, he threw the girl over his shoulder and stalked out of the room, ignoring the shrieks of surprise and the knees in his ribcage as he headed down the hall and towards the shower. He nearly hit her head on the upper sill of the hatch in his haste as he ducked inside, practically threw her into the shower and followed her in to show her exactly what sort of _pet_ she'd found. The rough treatment earned him a couple of fresh bruises, but seeing as they came from her teeth, he really wasn't going to complain.

~HHYFN~

**Author's Note: ** NOT MINE! I don't own them. Whedon and Twohy and the Wheat brothers, heck, even Vin Diesel has more rights to these characters than I do. But Vin's all caught up in fast cars and getting Letty back at the moment, I don't think he'll notice what I'm doing till September at least. Right? Hah!

Soooo. Did it turn out like you expected? Myself, I think the first couple paragraphs were the most fun I had writing in the story so far. Don't expect the tension between the two to go away though. Now that they're not resisting each other, it's going to be more about learning how they fit together, how they will handle this new dynamic of the minds. Pay attention to the animal, the tree, all the stuff in their heads. The quasi-character status they've had up till now has just been upgraded, and I'm essentially going to be juggling seven different personalities, just with Riddick and River. Can you see why I haven't brought the crew in so far? TOO MANY VOICES!

As always, love feedback, love to hear what you think. Contructive criticism, the whole nine yards.

Onward!

Shenandoah76209: Glad you liked! So very glad you liked. You're sort of the queen of River/Riddick lemons IMO, so if you feel that it worked… lol. I worked hard to keep the animalistic stuff in there, and give River some of her own as his blood melded with hers. I also wanted her to push back, not let him take control. Glad I seem to have struck a balance there. Now lets see if I can keep it up!

Ah Riddick, poor man, all that testosterone clogs the brain sometimes don't it?

Guineverekay: I've never seen that movie. Seen it on store shelves, but never seen it. Think I'd like to see it. You're right, I wrote the last chapter more as a fight (in my head) than as something meant to be tender and gushy. That may come later. I view the fight scenes as a dance, and choreographing them is just as trick. So glad you liked!

Maybe the whole Fiery Death! thing should be a motto. Wouldn't that be fun?

Rachet: Glad you liked! You're right, blood, biting and sex all seem to mix fairly well where Riddick is concerned. Unfortunately, I don't think this little impromptu transfusion of blood is going to be enough to make River glow. She's not Furyan after all, and not marked like Riddick. But just wait, there's shock and awe in store anyways ;)

Flaming-amber: I think you're my new favorite reviewer. Love that you love this. Nice sideways joke BTW. I, unfortunately, married a sailor. There are much worse things that could be accidently popping out of your mouth as far as jokes go, believe me XD And you're right. This wasn't really heat of the moment. His decision to use the knife and the blood was, but this was either going to happen or they were going to do what I just wrote above, split and try not to kill each other before they went their separate ways. Now there's an idea… And you were right as well about the wedding part. This is as close as I can ever see Riddick coming to vows, and while words at an alter are great, having someone cut you open and mixing your blood with theirs is just that eentsy bit more final isn't it?

Elliesmeow: Hey hey! Glad you liked how it turned out. Took me three days to write that chapter, stopping and starting and trying to get things sorted out. Won't be seeing another lemon for a little while though. Trying to keep them to a bare minimum for maximum impact. Not that they won't be imitating rabbits for a few days… /runsandhides

Translations:

_hwoon dahn:_ Bastard

_Fuh ur-tze: __Son of a drooling whore and a monkey._

_Shee-niou: _Shit urine

_shiong-mung duh kwong-ru_: Violent lunatic

Bridge: Control center, command center, etc Place you drive the ship from.

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this. _**Fiery death!**_


	14. Chapter 14

Ch. 14

_I've got a monster to please_

_It says to dance with me_

_Pppplease violent dancer drag yourself to the floor_

_And don't stop swinging till we break down the doors_

"Violent Dancer", Project 86

It was only when he thought she was well and truly chastised that he let her come up for air. In a figurative way that is. She didn't complain, and if anything he was starting to think she was prodding him for a reaction every time he thought she'd learned her lesson. From the shower, which had turned off halfway through and again before they could truly get soaped and rinsed, to infirmary, where it took four times as long to get bandages changed as it really should have; and then to his bunk, where the decision was made to just build a nest on the floor because they fell off the bed and neither of them could be bothered to climb back up. It was too small anyways. Finally they ended up in the galley, and the dishes in the cupboards fairly rattled as she shrieked his name out loud and in his head and he roared hers back.

They needed another shower, but it could wait, so they used damp towels to clean each other off and if River's legs hadn't been shaking and exhaustion dripping from every pore, they might have needed to clean the table off as well as the counter. He stepped firmly on his libido and mock growled at her when she giggled at him for the use of the word. Hours had passed as they came together, drifted, woke and came again. Thankfully there hadn't been any alarms from the bridge, and he decided to just be happy to have time to sit and maybe eat before she either did something else that needed punishing or Murphy's law decided to kick in. Frankly, he hoped she'd try and provoke him again. She was limping as she walked, but he had a goal in mind and didn't plan to let up until he'd reached it.

River bared her teeth at him and pulled a kitchen knife from a drawer. ::Just try,:: she growled, and he nearly reached for her again, except the way she was waving the knife made him slightly wary. ::The girl is _hungry_. And the Riddick had best eat something too.:: She grinned as she reached over to stab an apple out of the bowel sitting in the center of the table. ::Or he'll fall over and she'll win::

Riddick growled, for real this time, and hauled her over to sit in a nearby chair as he reached for an apple of his own. She was already slicing pieces out of hers, and didn't complain at the rough treatment beyond another warning wave of her knife. He would have gone to find one for himself, but she was right. His legs were getting shaky. And there was something more than a little arousing about watching her pick the slices off the blade with her teeth. He had the apple halfway to his mouth before her hand intercepted it. "Don't."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Make up your mind girl. Food or no food."

She handed him the knife instead. "Griswalds. Pressure bombs." Her scent wasn't giving off any of her usual signals of worry, but he could catch hints of wet earth under all the apples and rain and sex. It intrigued him, to be frank. Girl was still full of surprises.

He took the knife and sliced the apple in half as she watched, but kept it when she would have taken it back. ::There's a story behind this, isn't there?::

She gave up on trying to retrieve the blade, setting the apple aside and pulling her knees up to her chest. "Yes. It is the Captain's story. And Zoe's. The girl honors it. Remembers Wash too, for his jealously and bluster."

Riddick raised an eyebrow. "Smooth girl. Very nicely done. Only took about a month to get around to it." Kicking another chair over to face her across the table, he finished off one half of the apple and flicked a seed at her. "So why don't you start at the beginning?"

She ducked the seed and glared at him, doing a mental tally of how many days, hours and minutes it had been since she'd woken out of cryo and tried to kill him. He ignored her. If she thought now was the time to spill her life story, at least it was better than some he could think of. There were plenty of bits and pieces she'd let drop along the way and he'd built a fair picture of what had happened to make her crazy in the first place. Truth to tell the curiosity had nearly eaten him alive a couple times; but first she'd been infuriating, then there had been madmen trying to eat him, and then she was barely speaking to him except to drill him in things to do with the ship. Besides, she still hadn't commented on the eyes and he'd never met someone who could go so long without making at least one remark.

She wrinkled her nose at him and sneered when she caught the thought, and he laughed at her in his mind. And then ducked as she chucked the half eaten apple at his head. "Hey," he barked, and she laughed and snatched the bowl away before he could get to it. Shrugging, he stood, hopped up on the table and half knelt to pick her up by the shoulders. "Just for that…" he growled in her ear and brushed his lips down her neck. She shivered and vanilla bloomed. "You're gonna have to wait." And he dumped her back in the chair before settling his bulk on the edge of the table and letting his legs dangle over the edge.

She pinched him in the thigh, but relented. "It is long, but most of it is needful to know. Whether the girl ever sees her family again or not, he should know where she came from." She pinched him again in a far more sensitive place and he swatted at her on principle. "She will be gentler than he was when he threw his history at her," and she wrinkled her nose again when he grunted at the memory. "Will use actual words, and fill in gaps around them."

She was right. It was long. They'd gone through half the bowl of apples and started water for some of the pre-packaged meals, then eaten those and most of the bag of oranges before she'd finished. She put her words together like some of the professional storytellers he'd heard and layered mental images over the top to flesh things out. It gave him a fair picture not only of her ship and its crew, but of the workings of this corner of the galaxy as well. The central government was going to be a bitch to get around, but he'd spent his life on the run from the Company, and aside from a few quirks it didn't seem all that different. She actually didn't know much about the prisons, which made sense .The mercs in these systems seemed tamer, and there weren't any slam planets like he'd known. They valued their livable rocks here too much to convert them into holding grounds for murderers and thieves. And the ones humans couldn't survive on were mostly the result of terraforming disasters. No money in that either.

Her crew though, reminded him of some of the units he'd fought with while he was still in the Company. They hadn't all been fucked up dicks ready to leave a man to die in the tunnels, and when he'd had good partners who did their jobs, things had actually worked; at least until someone died and he had to break in a new one. Toss in a bit of the psycho family that had formed on T-2 for flavor, and he figured that while he might still kill them all in their sleep, he it was possible that he'd be able to let them live long enough to prove they weren't going to chain River up and stuff her full of drugs again.

That, not the apple bombs or almost being burned at the stake or even the merc who'd snuck aboard her ship, had been the part that transfixed him. There had been a point after the broadwave where she had realized that while the secret was out, the pea gone from the mattresses, she was still going to have episodes of sheer lunacy. Some things would still overwhelm her, and although she said that she'd never done any more random cutting on her crew, they still stepped carefully around her. And she in return was careful around them, trying to prove her sanity and ability to function. She left out details there, both in her head and in her words, and it was one point he didn't want to press her on, despite the faint traces of lemons and bitter herbs on her skin. He wanted to hurt someone though, and he wasn't sure if it was her crew for inadvertently making it harder for her or the people who'd done this to her in the first place. He figured he'd see who he ran into first and take his pound of flesh then.

Somehow she'd come to realize that the meds her brother had her on before Miranda had been helping with her "pea" and now that it was gone they were affecting her ability to regain equilibrium. She and her crew had tipped the scales on the government and all sorts of shit was crawling out of the woodwork. It had meant more work for them in the long run, as the military had lost its iron grip on the shipping lanes and had to pay more attention to bombs and break-ins at their bases. But it also meant that she had trouble with her ability to lock herself down in the here and now and not lose herself in the turmoil of the river. People everywhere were panicking, the border settlers about the Alliance trying to fix them, city dwellers looking for agents under their beds, and the authorizes afraid they'd lose their grip and the Independence movement would get strong enough to be a real threat again. The drugs, having blocked the horror of what had been in her head, had somehow left other channels open and affected her ability to block turmoil instead. He got the impression of many arguments, both with her brother and the captain, an infirmary full of smashed vials and broken syringes and a refusal to eat or speak or pilot until they stopped waving their arms and listened. He was skeptical, and gave her a look that asked why they didn't think she was even crazier after that.

She bit her lip and looked away ::May have stolen one of the shuttles then. Ran to a friend who hid her till she detoxed.:: And that was all she'd said on the subject, no matter how he poked, prodded, threatened, or bribed. She was immovable, and even walled her head off to him completely; steel rising in the air until he could have sworn it was what she was made of. She laid a hand on his just as he crossed from annoyed to truly pissed and leaned over to meet his eyes. ::Might meet this friend one day. She never told the crew, they thought she hid by herself somewhere. They know him. Would kill him, even as he pays his penance. She will not betray his trust, for he exposed himself to more than her crew's wrath for what he did.:: And she moved on with her story, leaving him to sort the statement out on his own.

It went fairly quickly from there. She'd returned to her crew calmer, saner, better able to control her abilities; and spent the next few years proving herself to them, over and over. Jobs tended to go better, she and the mechanic working in tandem could make the ship dance if need be, and they didn't have as many brushes with starvation. She'd realized early on that mediation and calm helped, and her family had learned to leave her be when locked in her bunk. She still threw things when angry, and he had a sudden feeling of sympathy with the crew for how they'd been subjected to her temper. Even mostly sane, visions of darkened coring rooms and nests of scorpions occasionally danced through his head. He was, at the moment, very glad she was naked and the knife they'd been using on the apples cleaned and put back. She glared, and he scowled back, then barked in surprise as she poked him in the collarbone ::The Riddick has a temper of his own. Her bones hurt when he can't decide if he's going to crush her or not::

He snorted. ::Keep poking me like that and I'll make a decision real quick:: They both knew he was full of shit, but appearances had to be kept, if even in their own minds. She rolled her eyes and settled into his side. At some point in the conversation she'd come to perch next to him on the edge of the table. "So," he reached for another apple, twisted it in half and gave her part of it before wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You got better, got off the meds, so on…"

She shrugged and swallowed her bite before answering. "Worked. Flew. Blue Sun put out another bounty. But they are private sector, or so people think. Knew she was still being hunted, but without public arrest warrants did not know how closely she was being followed. Can only pull so many tricks to mask a trail when the crew still needs to work." She frowned and took another bite ::They don't want _ge ge_ though, so that is good. Mercs snuck aboard while she was off ship and overwhelmed with the noise of crowds in town. Planted explosives, set an ambush. Got her to hold still long enough to put her down.:: Steel laced anger rippled through her again, and she clenched her fists. ::Could have killed them. At least those closest. Before she slept that is. But they had the little one too, and the Kaylee, and neither knows which end of a gun the safety is on. Captain Daddy and the mother and the man with a girl's name were needed to get them free, and if she'd fought they may have died.:: She looked up and shrugged. ::Better to wait till the tranqs wore off and teach them their lessons then.::

He laughed and pulled her a little closer. "Bloodthirsty. "

"Didn't think of cryo. It is expensive, not common. Was more focused on reading their present intentions than their long term plans." Her skin twitched under his hand. "She hates it. Sleep without sleep, dying without death. Can hear voices in her head, but they twist themselves into dreams and become monsters. Leads to screaming and fighting when she wakes."

Riddick snorted. "Hate it myself. Lost my mind a couple times before I learned how to deal."

"Animal side to the fore. Mind awake and moving while the body is stuck mostly immobile. Learned to move as he wanted eventually, man steps aside and instinct awakes."

He grunted and stood. "Sums it up. Come on."

She took his hand and let him pull her out of the galley and down the hall towards the bunks. "What is he planning?" Curiosity, anticipation, and a certain sort of wariness teased around the edges of his mind; and he discovered that he liked still being able to surprise her. She was still doing it to him, making him work to keep up with the turnings of her inner mind and turnabout was fair play after all.

"Said you had an Uncle who could give you work. Figure we muddy the trail. Take advantage of all the shit that seems to be headed in one direction." He bypassed her bunk. The doorpad was smashed beyond all repair and he wasn't going to bet money on it ever working again.

River gave it a look as they went by, then gave him the _look_. "The trained ape man is far too satisfied with himself over this plan. She has told you, only a chance that Captain Daddy will land on Persephone in time," her eyes glazed over and she went slack against his grip as charcoal and fire surrounded them. "In fact, he is already there. Cannot make him stay long enough to be useful."

Riddick mulled the wrinkle over as he boosted her up into the air vents. When she turned to look back at him, face expectant, he laughed. "Really want to do that up there? Thought you needed a break."

Her face turned colors, but she threw him an assortment of mental images that proved she didn't really care where he decided to take her, so long as there was no danger to life or limb involved. Her voice was serious though. "Will need help to get things out of room. Someone broke the door. May as well get everything instead of continuing to crawl through vents." And then she was gone, leaving vanilla and slight scuffling noises in her wake. Riddick sighed, cracked his neck, and pulled himself up into the vent. And frowned. How had she gotten through so fast?

He never did find out, but she did find him. Ambushed him was more like. One minute he was lowering himself into her bunk, searching for her with mind and ears since her scent was everywhere. Next thing he knew a hand had wrapped around his dick and then there was a _mouth_ and it took every bit of self-control he had to not lose his grip and fall flat on his back. ::River…:: he warned, knowing he sounded more than a little frantic. ::Get out of the way or we're both going to end up with something broken::

She ignored him, giggling into his mind instead. He wondered briefly how long she'd been waiting to get the drop on him like this, but as her tongue flickered over his head again he decided that he really didn't care. He was losing the ability to control his arms though, and directed a last panicked vision of her getting crushed beneath him as warning before he dropped to the floor. River let go and scrambled backwards just long enough to let him land before dropping to sweep a leg around to catch him in the back of the knees and knock him to the deck. His head bounced, stars flashed in front of his eyes, and he didn't really care. Because she was there, crawling up his body, touching, teasing. Driving him out of his mind as she kept herself just out of his reach. Vanilla and silk filled the air and her joy sang through his head and when she finally lowered herself onto him, pinned his shoulders down with her hands and proceeded to show him the finer points of torture, he discovered that time actually could slow down and stop for something other than cryo.

~HHYFN~

River shook and trembled and tried to shove the smell of lemons out of her head. He was right. It was a bad smell. The scent she'd always associated with cleanliness and order would be forever tainted. She vowed that any cleaning supplies she ever stocked, whether they returned to the _Hunter_ or ended up on _Serenity_, none of them would _ever_ be lemon scented. Nervously she tugged at a sleeve and shifted from foot to foot. They were about half healed, new skin over the scrapes, ankles no longer as tender, but still sore. She was still regrowing a couple toenails. That had almost been the most painful part of the whole experience, walking in boots with open wounds where the nails should have been. She was barefoot now, except for the last of the bandages, and it was the only part of her state of dress she could approve of. Strange how comforting nakedness could be.

::River:: Even in her mind his voice rumbled, and she let herself melt into the sound as she laid an ear to his chest to feel his breath vibrate through her bones. His arms were around her shoulders, fingers working their way through her hair and up to her skull to knead at the knots forming there and around the base of her neck. She bit back a moan of pleasure and a little bit of the overpowering lemon stink evaporated into the warm vanilla rising off her body. He was hard against her and she wondered briefly if he would ever _not_ be ready for her. He caught the thought as it flitted through her mind and she couldn't bring herself to care when he laughed at it. She did manage to keep the next one to herself though. Statistics on lions. No need to feed his ego. It was big enough already.

::River,:: he poked at her again and she could feel the man and the jaguar both watching her intently. Looking for weaknesses. At the moment, she had many.

"She knows," she murmured against his chest as she felt strong arms wrap around her and lift. He set her down on top of the tiny dresser, and she used the added height to bury her face in his neck instead. His hands came down to stettle around her hips and she fought down the urge to claw him closer, attack that warm skin that tasted like salt and heat and pull it all into herself. She still had to even the tally. Ambushing him as he dropped out of the ceiling had only made up for him pinning her in the shower; landing on the floor of his bunk instead of staying in his bed and the sneak attack that had resulted in her seated on a countertop in the galley still needed to be repaid. She had a goal too, and she was hiding it better than him. Walk funny indeed!

She clung when he tried to pull away, knowing her heart was racing with more than lust even though the jaguar was transmitting vanilla to her brain along with the spicy musk he hadn't figured out yet. She knew where it came from. It pleased her that he'd never smelt it before. He knew leather and blood and the rest of his own scents. And he ignored them. They were his after all. But she had made the spice and musk and warm fur come to the forefront and she was so very loathe to leave its presence.

Grumbling to herself as he pried her arms from his neck, she latched onto the jaguar in his mind and clung to it instead. He grunted faintly and let her be in his head as he wouldn't in the physical plane. Pinning her hands in one of his, he used the other to force her chin up. "River," he rumbled a third time, and this time she tried to lose herself in the sound of her name on his tongue. It really was wondrous, at any volume. For pretty much any reason. She thanked Book's faulty God that he'd finally relented and stopped calling her "girl" in his mind all the time. And out loud. "You're stalling," he said, breaking into her train of thought.

He was right. Even without being able to feel the turmoil of her mind, he would have known. _Niou fun_, even Jayne would have been able to tell she was stalling. What had been only mildly disturbing earlier, wrapped in each other as they were, was much more terrifying now. She was about to set in motion a chain of events that would have one of two outcomes. Either her family would take her back, or they would try to drag her back. She feared both results. If they accepted her back with open arms, what would they think of Riddick? What conditions would they try to lay down? He shouldn't be chained, shouldn't be held to anyone's standards of behavior but his own. And if they tried to take her back by force it would only end in blood. She'd run once. They'd be prepared for the possibility. Possibilities rather. Either they'd find her sane or they wouldn't, but she could feel them from here. It was worst case scenario time. They were ready for the catastrophic, and her brother most of all. Clip the wings, caged birds don't sing.

She wondered if she would be able to keep them from dying. The weapon told her that it may be needful to let it happen, let her river of blades rise and sing around the jaguar and leave no chance that any of them could come for her again. But the girl remembered playing jacks with Kaylee, the dinosaurs that still spoke in whispers, dressing up with Inara and going to see plays and shows that no other member of the crew, aside from maybe Simon, would appreciate. To not hear the sounds of the new guitar, or to watch Zoe try and teach Sierra the basics of cooking with protein? How could she cut all those threads that had run through her and helped her stitch herself back together? How could she ask her jaguar to not kill them all when they both knew-

His lips covered hers and she realized she hadn't been walling the thoughts off as she should have. She hadn't meant for him to catch all that. Hadn't meant to show her doubts so openly. Was she truly his match? The cut on her arm burned. They'd cleaned the matching gashes off but left them open to the air. The wound wasn't especially deep but it wasn't shallow either, as knife wounds went, and it served as a reminder of their promise. But now she couldn't breathe and she was being pulled back so he could look her in the eyes; his frustration at not being able to cut through the doubts warring with anger at everything that had ever caused them. She closed her eyes and breathed deep as he pressed his palms to either side of her face.

"Listen River. You don't want to kill, fine. But if they think they're going to lock you up and call you crazy for being you, they have another thing coming. And if one of them so much as blinks wrong…" he left off with the words and showered her mind with visuals. She wanted to cry, but that required breath and he was currently stealing hers, the lips at each eyelid and against her forehead radiating calm and purpose. "Now," he rumbled in her ear as he took her legs and wrapped them a little tighter around that big barrel chest. "You have a call to make. And remember," he was lifting her now, one arm around her waist, another under her _pi gu _as he left the bunk and headed for the bridge. "We can always turn this heap around and head back to Helion. People are actually scared of me there."

It worked. She mustered up a laugh as he dumped her in the pilot's seat and wiped at her eyes with shaky hands as she gave him a gentle kick in the knee. "_Hwoon dahn_ is scary here. Is only the girl who doesn't want to run screaming."

But something in her had settled. If he was willing to go back to his home systems, to the bounty on his head and the possibility of the Painwalkers finding him and making him take the throne again, she could be willing to face her fears. After all, he was her match and she was his. She gave him another nudge with her foot and a mental command to get himself out of sight of the Cortex before spinning the chair around and firing up the long-range wave. He obeyed, leaning against the wall just outside the hatch where he could hear but the cams couldn't see him. She took an extra moment to wrap her mind a little more firmly around his, and felt his jaguar give a rumbling purr as it curled up around her. One more breath, a pause, and she flipped the switch to send the call.

~HHYFN~

**Author's Note:** Sooo…answer a few questions? We are moving forward, I really do promise that. But this turned from a sex-a-thon to exposition to hey, more angst! Not what I intended at all in the first place when I wrote this. It wasn't going to be nearly so wordy. But here we are; many words later! I actually kind of love this chapter now, mainly because the whole crawling through the vents and ambush and then their talk in the bunk vanished from my computer for about two or three weeks. Or so I thought. I've been trying to scrape together pieces of these scenes in my head for a while now, but then I discovered one of my first draft files had a complete copy of the chap. Yay joy! The things in the back half lay some foundations for later events, and I am really, REALLY glad not to have to rewrite.

On question, how are these chapter headers (the song quotes) working for people? I like to do them, but I'm also biased. Just curious, cause I'm trying to set a theme and give hints with them. Hmm… XD

That being said, none of these characters, places, etc. are mine. I wish. I do. But no. Whedon, Twohy, the Wheat brothers, Universal pictures, heck Vin himself all have more rights to them than my. Dangit.

Shenandoah76209: We're gonna blame Guin for the Fiery Death thing. Or thank. I personally think it's awesome . Glad you liked the last chapter. I lose track of what I've said to who in some of these comment replies, but I do want to keep friction between them. For one thing, it would make things really boring if they didn't snipe and bicker. One-upmanship is going to play a fair part in their continuing relationship as well. I will try to keep translating scents, but I think I may stick something in the comments as well. Sometimes I just can't make the words flow to explain that malt is exhaustion, steel is anger, etc. Hope you like this chap too!

Guineverekay: I need to do some sort of Fiery Death! fanart of these two or something. Dedicated to you of course ;P Riddick is my trouble maker. I'm trying to keep his personality intact, while at the same time showing gentleness towards River when needed. I reread the first six or seven chapters of this story yesterday and was floored at how hardnosed and bullheaded he'd started out. Like River said above, he shouldn't have to quit being himself though, and it's a fine line I'm trying to walk. As for the crew, just wait. You'll see. Got a surprise in store when it comes to them. I'm gonna go find that series though. I tried to watch the first ep of the newest on and lost interest five minutes in. The other one sounds good though.

Rachet: Well….someone's impatient. I don't know the commercial (don't have TV and haven't since about '96) but I believe you. I have to alternate writing new chapters with editing and posting though, so we'll see what sort of pattern I manage. As for River waving _Serenity_ keep in mind that she was far out of occupied space, then she found her crew and their plans to dope her up if need be, then she was fleeing the skyplex. And the _Hound_ is a merc ship. They let someone know that they have cargo and then vanished. Any signal goes out from the ship to _Serenity_ is going to send up red flags all over the place. And let's not forget the Furyan she's dragging around the 'Verse. That's gonna be a doozy to explain. But just hold your horses. It will all get explained in time.

Elliesmeow: Yeah, can you image this pair in the middle of the crew? What with the kicking and the yelling and sudden silences as the argument moves to their heads? I think Simon would end up calculating weights and the amount of tranqs needed to keep Riddick under. Not good. But just wait. You'll see how things turn out

Translations:

_ge ge- _big brother

_Niou fun-_cow shit

_Hwoon dahn-_bastard

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

Steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this. **Fiery death!**


	15. Chapter 15

Ch. 15

_I don't mean to, to alarm you_

_Can't you see now, it overtakes you_

_You're declining, disintegrating_

_You're gonna lose it all_

_This time you're wasting_

"Release the Panic" Red

The squawk and yell on the other end of the Cortex were fairly predictable reactions, if she did say so herself. River still couldn't help it, she laughed. Even through the doubt and fear that still hovered in the back of her mind, the sight of Badger falling out of his chair and dumping his whiskey all over the place was strangely satisfying. Behind her she could feel Riddick's curiosity and humor as she showed him the picture of what was going on. A balding head appeared over the edge of the desk, bowler hat askew and eyes wide. "River," the man breathed. "That really you?"

She laughed again and waggled her fingers at him. "Right it tis luv," she said, and felt Riddick's mind go solid and impenetrable as he flinched away from the personality she'd chosen for the moment. No matter, she'd be herself soon. "How's business?"

Badger was still climbing back into his chair, and she saw him reach to rescue what was left of the whiskey bottle. He was white as a sheet and sweating and she was suddenly very glad that she wasn't actually standing in front of him. His hole smelled bad enough as it was, with Riddick feeding his senses to her it would probably be unbearable. "Well now, don't rightly know," the man muttered once he'd taken a long drag off the bottle. "Got this crazy smuggler see, thinks he's better than me, stick up his _pi gu _like 'e was born wit' it up there. Tramping all _over_ my business and making a right mess of things." Badger slammed the bottle down on the desk and glared. "Where the hell you been little girl? You know Reynolds' been combing the bloody 'Verse looking for you? Gonna drag the Alliance down on us all!"

River snorted and sat back, abandoning the Deyton colony accent. "Drifting in a cryo box tends to keep one from being able to contact her crew," she leaned forward and tapped the cam lens. "Or did you not look at the ID of the ship that just waved you? An old customer after all."

Riddick, relaxing now that she'd dropped the act, went stiff with fury. She sent him a mental wave of calm along with a picture of a cat with a ball of string. She knew what she was doing; he had to trust her on this. The fact that she was clinging to the jaguar as the source of her own grip on sanity had nothing to do with it. Nope, not a thing. He knew better too, but let her sooth the animal and keep control of the encounter as best she could.

In her moment of distraction, Badger had taken a closer look at his Cortex and gone a nice shade of pea soup green. She laughed again and sat forward to brace her arms on the console. "Now, Uncle, breathe."

He tried. He really did. But even from this far away she could tell he was having visions of what she or her Captain were going to do to him when they got in shooting distance. This was no good. A Badger paralyzed with fear tended to get nasty, and that's not what she needed. As much as she liked watching him squirm, she had things to do before her façade crumbled completely. "Badger," she said in her sweetest voice, with the smile to make. "You're turning colors."

"_Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze_," he finally managed to get out. "River luv, if I'd a' known…"

She traced a finger over the screen, following his nose as he jerked and quivered and tried to figure out how far he could get before he was caught. Screwing Captain Reynolds over in a business deal was one thing, but _Sargent_ Reynolds was an entirely different animal. A trigger happy one at that. And lately he'd been seeing more and more of the Sargent. River shook her head in mock sadness. "Water under the bridge. She knows he didn't know. But," she waggled a finger at him and felt Riddick's approval radiating from the hatch, "she is back in populated space now. Needs work. Has work. Even trade. She'll even throw in a slightly used cry box." River sat back and examined her fingernails. They were getting long. She was going to have to trim them soon. She didn't think that Riddick, as much as he loved her hands all over him, would appreciate furrows being dug into his back when it could be avoided. He chuckled in her mind and told her no, he wouldn't mind. So long as he didn't need stitches afterward. She snorted and refused to promise anything on that score before turning back to Badger, who seemed to have gathered himself a bit. "Don't," she warned, and he froze midreach. "If you do, there will be no forgiveness."

"River, ya have any idea how _long_ they have been look'n for you? Months!" She could see the man now, under the Badger's mask. The one who told her stories of his home world, of the family he had left after the Alliance made it too hard to find work on his home planet. The one who'd lost his wife and child during the war and sworn never to get attached again. Built himself a hill to be crowned king on, set down roots, a fixture in the game now. Especially since he'd survived the purge of Serenity's contacts just prior to the Miranda wave. "Girl, yeh've got ta tell them, and if you don't I will!" He reached again, and River wished she was there to slap his hand away.

"No!" It was meant as an angry shout and came out more of a plea. Badger stilled, and stared at her. "No," she said again, up now, both hands touching the screen. She was losing to the fear and it was starting to show. She could hear Riddick growling in the hatch, and knew that he'd be stepping out of cover soon. "Please, Badger. Listen! She will call them. She will. Needs your help though." River managed to make herself sit back down in the pilot's chair and took a deep breath. "That's the job you see. Needs them to carry cargo. She wants to surprise them."

Badger opened his mouth, but a scuffling noise beyond the camera's range of vision cut the thought off before he could fully form it. Scowling and looking very like his namesake, he glared at the camera "You have the worst rutt'n timing girl. Ya know that? Gonna owe me big for this. "And with that he dropped a cloth over the cam and was gone, yelling for his lackeys to let the visitors in.

She could hear muffled voices through the darkened screen, and her mind froze. Those voices were beyond familiar. River reached for the armrests of the chair and clung as she listened to the bickering that always started out a deal with Badger. Riddick came through the hatch behind her, rumbling deep in his chest, and she drank in the calm that was his mind like a dying man who'd found life and safety. One large hand came down on her head, and she tipped it back so that she could see his face. He was frowning, pushing questions at her that she didn't know if she had the answers for. Mutely she shook her head, and turned her attention back to the Cortex ::Did not know. Was so focused on keeping sane, on the words she needed…Lost track of the crew.::

"Look, Reynolds," Badger had moved back into range of the mike. "Ya want a job, fine. Got a few. But none out in Red Sun. And _'specially_ none near the skyplex ya hear?"

"Always work Badger, all over the 'Verse."

River started to shake.

"May be so, but I'm not intr'sted in losing profits. You go to the skyplex Reynolds. An' if ya make it back, tell me how it looks like someone kicked ov'r an anthill in that part o' space. Be terribly interested to see if you managed ta get yourself and your crew killed."

A mutter in the background was Jayne's voice, and she reached with her mind to find predictable thoughts. Needed work to keep the ship fueled to keep the hunt for the crazy girl goi'n. He wasn't liking the sound of the reports out of Red Sun, especially not the description of the big guy River'd been sighted with. It was, in its way, a relief to know that Jayne was still Jayne. Not much truly phased him until it was his _pi gu_ or his cut of a job on the line.

"See," Badger was saying. "At least one o' ya has some sense."

A click: a gun cocking. A sliding ratchet: Zoe's mare's leg. There was an answering chorus of similar noises as the Badger's men drew their own weapons. He must have waved them off though, because there were any shots fired. "Now you listen here," Captain Daddy was growling. She knew that tone. It was the tone that he only used right before doing something truly muleheaded. "You're alive right now cause the 'Tross likes you. Myself, think'n it's more than proof something ain't right in her, but we all got our quirks."

The cloth on the cam was jostled as something, probably Badger, got shoved across the desk. River dove out of her seat and around, bulling into Riddick in her haste to get out of sight range if Reynolds should notice. She hunched over, panting and trying to pull her mind together as Riddick laid an arm over her shoulder and turned her to face him. He was cool to her touch; the jaguar informed her that she was burning up, and not in a good way. Her heart was racing and she smelled of apprehension and mint. Breathing deep of leather and steel and spices, she focused her attention back on the Cortex.

"Now," her Captain was saying. "We're gonna make a run out ta Red Sun. You got work for us when we come back this way, _fine_. But you'd best stay out of my way otherwise, or I don't care how many guns you got, I'll blow this place wide open." The gun was holstered, and she could feel the resolve in his mind, the resignation in Zoe's and Jayne's anticipation of finally getting to place a few explosives in this hole and blow it all to kingdom come.

Badger was muttering, incomprehensible bits of Mandarin and English mixing in new and interesting ways. Another clatter, and a peek around the chair showed River that the Cortex screen on the Persephone end had landed on the floor. "Whatever you say Reynolds. Make that run. But I'm sitting pretty on a milk run worth a seven'y -five thousand, platinum," River closed her eyes and grumbled inside her head. "Was going to offer it ta you, seeing as it's about this time a' year ya make that trip out ta Blue Sun." River bit her lip to keep from cursing out loud and giving herself away as Riddick pushed curiosity in her direction. She shook her head at him and winced as she heard the guns come out of the holsters again and the minds of her crew scream bloody murder. Riddick wove a hand through her hair and growled quietly in response, and she leaned her forehead against his chest so she could feel it in her bones. The Captain was yelling at Badger, Jayne was grumbling about the potential loss of work, and Zoe was living up to her private nickname of Stone Woman With A Heart. River focused on breathing, on keeping herself from being swallowed in those minds as Badger haggled and cajoled them into coming back to Persephone to take the job. Suspicion was firing like hand grenades in her Captain's mind, and Zoe's too. But it was the biggest job they'd been offered in a month and a half and they needed the money. River wanted to shake Badger. And kiss him. But probably not hug him. He hadn't washed that suit in a week.

And then they were gone. She followed them out of the warren with her mind before pulling her attention back to the present. She could hear Badger coming back around his desk, throwing the men out, and picking up the Cortex screen. She nudged Riddick to get him untangle his hand from her hair and then slipped back around the chair. Badger was snarling, nose bleeding and a large bruise forming along his jaw. "You owe me girl. You owe me_ big_. Your Captain is a ruttin' lunatic, you know that little girl? Ruttin' lunatic and you'd better pray he makes it back from whatever damn fool thing he's hell bent on this time." He grabbed for a cloth to hold to his nose, probably the one that had been over the screen, and River bit back a sigh.

Riddick wondered at it, and at the treatment of the man sitting in the steel cave several thousand miles away, and she replied with a vision of a mother bear that thought her cubs were being taken. Then she overlaid her Captain and Badger in the picture and he rumbled in amusement. ::All sorts of interesting.:: She knew he wasn't pleased by the analogy, but she was just grateful he wasn't pushing his status as the bear in this case.

A muffled curse from Badger broke into her thoughts. "Bloody hell girl! Who's that?"

Riddick just laughed as River buried her face in her hands and snarled to herself. ::Your ego is too big,:: she shot in his direction, and he laughed harder. On the screen, Badger was turning pale again. Sighing, River aimed a poke in the jaguar's direction, and then said "This is the big _hwoon dahn_ that found the _Hound_ out in Reaver space." It was truth, and she wasn't planning on giving any more details. It didn't matter. The little man turned purple, clamped a hand to his mouth, and dropped back into his chair. She waited.

He brayed.

Riddick was looking at her like she was some sort of bug, and she had to swallow her own laugh as she reached up to pat the arm he had laid over the back of the chair. ::He has won money today. His second-in-command made a bet with him years ago, when the girl first ran away.::

Riddick snorted and dropped his arm as he leaned forward to watch Badger try to get control of himself. ::All the people in this system as crazy as the ones we've met so far?::

She shrugged and grinned up at him. ::Captain Daddy has a talent.::

::I'll say:: He crossed his arms and propped a hip on the edge of the console, bracing his feet against the base of the chair. His jaguar was amused, the man calculating the possible ways for this to get all sorts of fucked up. He was working on a mental tally of weaponry available on the ship, and some of the finer bits of the plan were getting reworked as they waited for Badger to finish laughing. ::This call gets done, need to find your crew again, take a read of them. Don't know that I like having them come to the ship to pick up Kyra. Neutral ground.::

River turned over his new ideas in her head and nodded to herself. It was sound. If it went badly, their original plan of having the crew come to them was going to be a great hindrance in getting off planet without bloodshed and attention from the authorities. ::The girl knows a few places. One of them should work. Someplace the Badger man doesn't hold sway.:: Speaking of Badger, she leaned forward and tapped a finger on the mike. "Uncle Baaaadger," she sang, putting as much honeyed warning into her voice as she could muster. "Making a fool of yourself. Done mocking her yet?"

Badge mopped at his eyes, chuckled a couple more times, and blew out a long breath. "Sorry luv, weren't mocking you. It's just…" he trailed off into laughter again and she crossed her arms and fumed. This was getting old. Riddick agreed, but she was grateful for the fact he didn't seem to want to say much at the moment. "Sorry. Sorry." Badger coughed, and then pulled his face into a mask of seriousness. His lips were twitching, and humor danced in his eyes. "Scratch the money. For the look on Reynolds' face, I'll set this up without a cut."

River snorted. "Business is business. You'll get your piece o' the pie," she'd lapsed back into the Deyton accent, and her voice was full of scorn. It was always better to keep things on the level with Badger. "Thanks ever so for naming such a _go se_ price, by the way. T'was perfectly lovely."

"Now River," Badger shook a finger at her even as he grinned. "Know you'll scrape it up somehow. And they'll be expecting half up front."

River snorted, but it was Riddick who replied, leaning over to stare at the man on the other end of the Cortex. "It's settled then. We'll contact you planetside to set up a meet." And he slapped the call switch off before Badger could reply. River slumped over like a puppet with its strings cut, and he could feel the mix of emotions coming off of her like an ion storm over her skin. The jaguar was pacing, not happy with her changes in personality. The man was hoping he wasn't going to have to kill a whole pile of people to make it off planet.

She felt his arms slide around her and relaxed into his hold as he picked her up and carried her out of the bridge. It was a bit difficult to tell where he was going, what with the darkness of the ship after the brightness of the bridge. She kept her eyes shut and her mind out of his, searching instead for the river as it flowed. She felt the chair that he set her into and noted absently that they'd come to a halt in the galley, but her mind was picking through a crowd, searching for voices that she knew. A thumb down her cheek, a hand turning her face upwards, and the jaguar gave her charcoal and fire over apprehension and the faintest hint of apples and rain. Strangely enough, the lemon was gone. When had that happened?

Water into the kettle. The scrape of metal over a glass cooktop. He was going through cupboards as she found and skimmed the minds of her family. Her heart twisted, apprehension ruling as she looked for indicators of future behavior and dropped them into her calculations. But she kept getting distracted by the sounds Riddick was making in the galley. Finally, grumbling in her head, she pulled her legs up to cross them, laid her hands on her knees, and dropped from her mind entirely. She felt his surprise as she pulled her consciousness from his, and then there was only the crew, the family. Home.

~HHYFN~

Something was roaring. It sounded like a big cat. Not a lion, but a jungle cat; the kind that fell from trees and killed in one lunge. It sounded like a man, angry and…_frightened_? Her shoulders wouldn't move, and her skin was on fire. She was still seated, but she was surrounded by warm fur and spices and clarity of purpose that put ordinary men to shame. In front of her a jaguar paced, tail twitching and flopping like a fish on dry land as a mark of its agitation. She stared, and green eyes flashed as it stopped, looked at her, and roared again. The sound blasted her consciousness, twisting around her mind as the animal snarled and headbutted her in the chest. She coughed, her air gone, and thrashed in surprise. Her shoulders were free now, her legs pinioned, and big hands caught her smaller fists and trapped them together. The weapon fought the hold around her with just as much focus as the girl was bringing to bear in trying to calm herself and still the erratic movements.

::_River!_::

Her head jerked back and impacted with bone and her cry of pain mingled with his bark of surprise. The hands around hers clenched and she gasped as she felt the bones grind together. Whimpering, the girl curled in on herself as much as she could, trying to get her bearings, searching for the familiar. His mind was there, a refuge even though its cool waters roiled in confusion. The jaguar dropped out of its tree to land in front of her, and she flung her arms around it and buried her face in its neck while the more cerebral man rested a hand on the shoulder of weapon and pinning her back against the tree. She panted and realized she was on the floor, Riddick's arms and legs pinioning her from behind as the last of the twitches and involuntary flinging of hands worked themselves out of her system.

"River!" The voice was just as loud in her ear as it had been in her mind and she winced away.

"Ow," she muttered and tried to rub her ear on her shoulder since she couldn't seem to get her hands free. His grip loosened, and then vanished entirely as he wrapped his arms around her ribcage instead and set her upright between his knees. She massaged her temples as she twisted to look at him. The goggles were off, worry in every line of his face, and his mind was assaulting her's with images of her falling out of her chair and her heartbeat fading to near imperceptibility. Aftershocks of lemon mixed with leather and steel ripped up her nose, and she realized the jaguar was giving her _his_ scent as it had been. She could feel the heat rising in her skin, and knew her cheeks were red. "Sorry," she whispered. "And thank you. The girl got lost. The pull of the river, of the turmoil of minds." She hung her head and turned away to stare at her feet where they stretched out in front of her, bracketed by his. "Thought meditation would help bring clarity. Always has in the past."

"I felt you go," he rumbled. ::In my head, you were gone. Like you'd never been.:: He was turning her in his arms now, or turning himself. She wasn't sure exactly. But she was facing him, and he had her chin between his hands. Gentle where moments ago they'd been anything but, she marveled at this man. This Furyan and all the different things he could be while still being himself. The Riddick. The role of Lord Marshall had been, in a way, what he was born for. If his people had lived, he could have, would have ruled. She felt his amusement at the idea, and his rejection of it. Defiant was a very good word for him, and he wanted no part of ruling anyone. She decided that it was ok. If he hadn't been who he was he'd have never run, never found her.

::And don't you forget it.:: He tipped her face up to kiss her, just once, before leaning back and raising an eyebrow. "Now, what happened?"

River tilted her head and studied the planes and curves of his face as she tried to line her words up in logical order. There were still veins standing out along his head, and the goggles were nowhere in sight, leaving his eyes to gleam at her as residual light hit them and bounced off. His nostrils were flaring as he pulled in her scent and analyzed it, and she caught charcoal and fire in mass quantities. The lips twitched at the corners as he caught where her attention was headed, and he pulled back before she could lean up and kiss them.

Sighing, she twisted her hands in her laps. "Found the family. To find the plans. Couldn't concentrate, dropped into true mediation." She shrugged. "That has never happened, when she follows the river a part usually stays behind to monitor surroundings."

He frowned and ran an absentminded hand up her back. "You pulled out of my head completely. I couldn't feel you. And you've followed the river a couple times in the past few days."

River turned that over, looking for answers in the parts since the whole was still a mystery to her. ::She posits the theory that it was her agitation that caused her to be unable to truly follow the current. Still nervous, worried about what's coming. Did what she has always done when focus is needed.::

::And nearly killed yourself,:: his mental voice was full of growl and bluster, but the worry was clear.

She leaned forward until she could rest her head under his chin. ::Apologies. It seems that the bonding has tied us together more deeply than could be anticipated::

He barked a laugh and tightened her arms to fit her more closely against him. She reveled in the feel of his hands on her back, fingers tracing along her veins. "Anticipated," he chuckled. "Like any of this could be anticipated."

"The Riddick does not know if he is mad or grateful to Shirah for poking her nose into his life again." He stiffened but she continued, weaving her mind into his and trying to push as much calm and acceptance as she could in his direction. "She has heard the dreams. They were loud." She shrugged and ran her hands down his chest to the snap on his pants. "The girl knows that she will always be grateful, if a bit jealous that a dream woman pushed him to do what the river could not convince him of in the first place." And she yanked on the snap, rolled her hips forward, and bulled her head into his chest until he tipped over backwards. And even as he was getting over his surprise at the maneuver, she proceeded to show him just how grateful she was. And how much more of his attention she should own instead of giving it over to Shirah.

~HHYFN~

Riddick laughed as River growled and kicked at her shirt where it lay on the floor. Her bra lay at the opposite end of the room, one of the straps torn and the little metal hooks in the back bent completely out of alignment; and he was anything but repentant about it. The girl turned to bare her teeth at him before picking up the offending article of clothing and yanking it over her head. "She only has so many clothes you know," she grumbled as her head popped out of the neckline. "And only two bras." She stomped over to pick up the bit of tan lace and cotton and shook it in his direction. "Tiny she may be but wobbling and jiggling like badly formed protein is not desirable and bandages make a poor substitute for keeping the breasts in place."

The big man snorted and turned back to the water kettle so she couldn't see the look on his face. The first half of the comment had brought to mind all sort of images, followed quickly by a new set that had more to do with this 'Verse's idea of shipside food and the hassle it was to try and prepare. Behind him River kicked open the trash disposal and dumped her bra, snarling only half in jest. "She will find corsets. With metal stays. Then maybe the man will not ruin them."

And there went the images again. Riddick growled, dropped the kettle, and spun to trap her in his arms. "I'll make you beg then," he growled in her ear as he turned them both and pinned her to the cupboards with his body. "You'll wish it was just cloth, 'cause I can have all the patience in the world. One. Lace. At. A. Time." He dipped his head to grip her shoulder in his teeth and pressed just a little closer with his hips, as if she couldn't feel him hard and ready anyways.

She gasped, tipped her head backwards, and managed to look him in the eye. "We'll have to see," she bit out, before dropping to her knees and lurching sideways to get clear of him. Riddick growled, but let her go and she laughed as she reached for the two silver bags on the counter labeled "Sesame Chicken". He was pleased to note her hands were shaky. She gave him a mental poke in the head and pointed out that his heart was racing too, and he was about to snap the dish in his hands to pieces.

The food was shit, but it was still food. He'd scrounged up a spoon somewhere while she used the sticks to pick bits of what looked like sloppy orange dog food out of the bowl and stuff it in her mouth. He shook his head. First or Second Exodus, he really didn't care, but at least in cryo you didn't have to worry about food. The habits of the people of the first Exodus were downright weird.

::Chinese-American venture. Biggest economical bases. Took a good bit of Europe with them as well. Cultures merged, traditions of one became traditions of the other.:: River balanced a ball of rice on the end of one of the sticks for a second before popping it in her mouth. ::Africa and the Middle East could not muster the funds to leave as quickly. Dissidents didn't want to ally themselves with the infidels when all of space beckoned. By the time they escaped,:: she shrugged and trailed off. ::Dig into our history and there are rumors of espionage groups stealing technology. Most of cryo research, different options for space drives. Must have succeeded.::

Riddick eyed her for a moment before shrugging. He really didn't care one way or another. However humans had ended up scattered over the stars, they were here now. And he just hoped that his home systems were far enough away that Vaako, even if he decided to come looking for his Lord Marshal, would write it off as a lost cause. They'd been traveling in opposite directions after all, and if his research into the Necro's history was any good, they were still headed for the Underverse. He hoped.

River flicked a bit of rice at him and grinned when he growled at her. "Does it truly matter," she asked. "The Riddick is within the bounds of the Alliance now. Wanted for killing at least two men. Desired for knowing the girl that nobody seems to be able to keep pinned down. What hold does she have over him? Or him over her? Money? Threat of death?" Her grin broaden and silk and vanilla rolled off her in waves as apples and rain twisted their way up his nose. "Stockholm syndrome?" She waited for him to quit laughing before continuing. "Doesn't matter. He has her. They want her back. He is either an obstacle or an asset. Better if he were dead. All who come in contact with her should die." She frowned. "Sonics will hurt you know. Worse than most. Ears bleeding, mouth red. Fingernails loose."

Riddick grunted and poked at her with his spoon. "Ain't gonna happen. Get that shit out your head girl." And he pushed calm and determination her direction, backed by a promise to kill anything and anyone who got in their way.

She sighed and propped her elbows on the table and let him feel her acceptance. "Apologies. Still nervous about Persephone. Eavesdown docks more like Rim, but still very close to Core. Will have to walk soft."

"Thought you said I looked like one thing."

She laughed and stood to take his empty bowl. "He does. In the main city, couldn't go five steps before Feds closed in. Hounds to the scent. At the docks," she shrugged and dumped the bowls in the sink and came back to perch herself on his knee. "Will stand out less. The goggles will mark you, but everyone new gets marked for something there."

Riddick ran over the options in his head as she leaned back into his shoulder. Her skin was cool under his hand as he ran a thumb over her fingers. She was silent as well, and he could feel her mind turning calculations over and over as her scent shifted from silk to mint to apprehension and back to apples and rain. "What will you get marked for," he asked finally.

She shrugged. "Depends. Could go out as she did on the skyplex. Good excuse for huge bodyguard. Or could go out in merc's clothes." She twisted a little to grin at him and he nearly inhaled a face full of her hair as she did so. Not that he was really going to complain about that. His jaguar rolled over, and the small figure rubbing its stomach chuckled. "Proper posture, proper attitude," she was ignoring his amused prodding at her mind. "She passes for a gun hand sometimes."

"Don't do the personality transplants do ya," he couldn't help asking. He fucking _hated_ it when she did that. She wasn't River then. She was alien, unknown, a threat to him in a way he couldn't describe. She was stiffening against him, and steel mixed with wet earth floated in the air. Her mind, still wrapped around his, was hardening as she locked her private thoughts away. He snarled, angry at her and at himself for pushing her. But lies weren't his deal and the truth was what it was. He shoved the thought in her direction, hoping to crack the barriers she was putting up. For a moment he thought that it hadn't worked; either that she hadn't heard him or that she was ignoring him completely. He removed his hands from her so he wouldn't hurt her as he formed fists and squeezed. Finally the girl sighed and relaxed against him again, wet earth winning out over steel, then cool water overriding even the earth.

"Peat," she muttered, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "You smell peat on the girl when she's sad." She was twisting her fingers together now, knotting and unknotting them in a rhythm he couldn't place. "She does not mean to disturb. Has discovered that acting inconspicuous requires certain…compromises of self. It is easier to channel a personality than to try to hide her own." Serious dark eyes looked up into his. "Did not realize it was such a complete transformation."

"Your scent changes," he muttered as he dropped his face into her hair. "Don't like not smelling you on you." He sounded petulant and he knew it. It didn't change the facts any.

She snorted and leaned her head back to rest it against his shoulder, but said nothing for a very great while. He could feel her mind working, turning things over in hers, poking at this and that in his. It was odd, like someone stroking fur backwards along his spine, but the animal was unconcerned and the man merely curious as to what she was up to. Her heart rate dropped to match his, and for a moment he was glad just for the peace, the rightness of it. With their luck, they wouldn't get another moment of calm between Persephone and Haven, no matter how the meet went down.

Her voice was soft when she spoke again, and cool water filled the room and flooded his mind. Almost, he could feel himself floating in it, a lake too deep to see the bottom, a sky above so blue above him it was like someone had carved a bowl from gemstones and set it over him before shining a light through it. He remembered colors, but this was the first time in years they had played across his brain as if he were actually seeing them. "She thinks she may have a solution," she whispered, running fingers up his arms and leaving trails of fire. "Anchor herself in him, line around a rock. Swim the river, taste the currents." She shifted slightly, and his veins hummed. "Seek the crew and find the plans. Love and life and comfort found, or death and pain and running sounds."

Charcoal threaded through her, and into him, and for the first time since he'd smelled it on her he remembered that it wasn't just evidence of a fire, but a purifier too. Pared down to the essence of thought, she was speaking her own sort of clarity. It was left to the fools around her to realize that the language she spoke was that of the heart of hearts and not the cerebral mind.

He felt himself sway in the current of the water around him, felt his heart slow and her breath deepen. Dropping his feet and anchoring them not only on the deck but also to the bottom of the lake, he buried his nose in her hair and wrapped his arms around her as the water closed over his head.

"Alright then River," he whispered against her neck. "Go hunting." Gooseflesh erupted under his hands, but her scent and heart didn't change. He felt her, twisting through his mind like veins of fire under his skin, and the jaguar rumbled as she wrapped herself around him and clung while the girl made of streaming bladed edges buried herself in the arms of the man. He looked for the tree of the jaguar, and then the darkened den beyond. And though he didn't know how he tied himself in, far, far past the instinctual and straight into the primitive fire at his core. And then, for the longest time, he knew only the current of voices around him.

~HHYFN~

**Author's Note: **Sooo…Badger! We did get to meet him. Sort of. I actually intended him to come off a lot more friendly to River and less…Badger, but he just wouldn't go along with it. This chapter gave me lots of pain. Dialogue between anyone _not_ River and Riddick is a bitch to write. I think it's cause I'm trying to the animal, the weapon, the girl and the man interact with each other all at same time as the people around them are speaking. Not to mention the smells and breath and heart rates. So many balls to juggle, and I'm no good at it! Please please please let me know what you think, constructive crits and all.

/Drumroll….They're not mine! Not! Lawyers, lawyers go away!

Shenandoah76209: LOL! I almost made myself late for work running upstairs to see if anyone had taken a look yet! I get obsessive that way. Reeeeeally obsessive. Hopefully this one gives you more time XD Glad you like it so far. I'm really trying to keep things grounded in the reality of the 'Verse. I hope I can keep it up. And yea, one-upmanship. Too much fun to get rid of.

Lizziebug: Does this chap help a bit? So glad to hear from you!

Rachet: I think I had to stop writing and just laugh for about fifteen minutes when I stuck in the lion part. Totally unplanned. But really, Riddick must be some sort of machine. I never have understood the whole 'sex all day and all night" thing. Eventually, something or someone is going to collapse. Right? Or is it just me? Glad you like the chapter headers. I do the same, go hunting music because I see it in a fic. As for the other thing…well I guess I didn't hide it too well, who she went and hid with. Ah well. I'm caught. XD

Guinieverekay: I think its thanks. Definitely thanks. Makes me laugh every time. Glad you like the quotes. I'm trying to keep them varied. And yeah, Bastard is turning into his nickname. Didn't intend it to be so, but it just works, ya know?

Elliesmeow: Thanks for commenting! Hope this helps in terms of what the plan is. It's more Riddick's at this moment. River's still trying to keep her brain on straight where all of this is concerned.

Translations:

_Pi gu_: butt/ass

_Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze:_ Stupid son of a drooling whore and a monkey

_hwoon dahn_: bastard

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Forward/bow—Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death! **(Hi Guin )


	16. Chapter 16

Ch. 16

_And it's been awhile_

_Since I could hold my head up high_

_And it's been awhile_

_Since I said I'm sorry_

"It's Been a While" Staind

The deck beneath him smelled of old blood and fresh sex. He'd woken up in a lot of places, from crashed spaceships to ledges over lava vents, but this was a first for him. His head was ringing, and it felt like his mind had gotten pulled in a million directions at once before everything let go and slammed back together again. Groaning, he levered himself over to his back, and stared at the ceiling above for a moment before putting out the immense effort it took to sit up. It was like he had those fucking power cells tied to him again, two on his chest and two tied to his back and damn if he couldn't seem to catch a full breath.

He braced himself against the chair lying next to him and looked around. River was sprawled out in a heap on the other side of it, half under the table. Her breathing was deep and even, her heartbeat slow, but steady. He shook his head as he pulled himself to his knees, moved the chair aside, and reached for her. It took a little work to get her up in his arms and even more to make it to his feet without toppling over, but somehow he managed. A mental probe revealed a swirl of thoughts, images, and even colors that he had no names for. His animal rumbled and nosed at her a bit before going back to its tree and climbing up. The man shrugged. Apparently, nothing was wrong that a decent amount of sleep wouldn't cure. He wondered briefly when was the last time either of them had really slept for more than a couple hours, and couldn't put his finger on it. Just as well then. They were coming up on Persephone sometime soon and the longer she could go without consciously worrying about what would happen there, the better. He hoped she'd found good news in the river.

Staggering only slightly, he made his way out of the galley and down the hall. A bump on the doorpad with his elbow opened their bunk, and he slipped inside and laid her on the bed just as his legs started giving off warning signals. Her landing was a little less than gentle, but she didn't wake. Instead she turned over, muttering a little, and pawed at the blankets. Thoroughly awake now, he knew that he needed to get away before he woke her and stepped into the nest of scorpions again. Or a nest of something else much more enjoyable but probably just as bad for the both of them in the long run. Either way, she needed sleep. Pulling the covers up around her, he padded out of the bunk and back down the hall.

He got the galley cleaned up, dishes washed and put away, chair righted and back in its spot at the table. A scrap of lace she'd forgotten when she put her clothes back on earlier was folded and placed on the seat of one of the chairs. He could smell her on it, apples and rain, vanilla, remnants of sex; and he considered for just a moment the idea of hiding it so she couldn't wash it. But the man overrode the jaguar and he figured that if he followed through on the idea and she found out, she'd invest in steel laced garter belts. Or something equally ridiculous and cumbersome to get off.

The bridge came next, and he scanned the screen and flashing light indicators. ETA timers were ticking down in the corner of one screen, one for time till atmo, the other time till landing. The rest of the lights were all green where they needed to be, and he couldn't see any of the particular flat greys of red. He took a minute to refamiliarize himself with the controls, doing a mental recitation of what was what. He didn't touch anything though. The autopilot on this boat seemed a bit finicky and he wasn't interested in waking River to tell her he'd broken it. There was a portable cortex screen propped between the top of the console and the bulkhead and he grabbed it before wandering out. The man knew better than to fiddle. The animal was bored and looking for some practice. Better to get out of there altogether.

He found himself in the cargo bay, only the lights of Kyra's coffin to disturb his eyes. Cortex forgotten, he went to sit on one of the crates. Eventually he realized that he was, once again, listening for a heartbeat that didn't exist anymore. When had all of this happened, he wondered. When had he turned from a man who ran from everything, to a man who ran towards something, and then to a man who stayed? He couldn't really complain. Not about where he was now. He was free of the mercs who'd been hunting him, free of the Necros and their halfhearted devotion to him. Free of his whole damned set of solar systems.

Instead he'd tied himself to a woman whose bounty was worth more than his, in a new solar system where there was probably a price being put on his head even as he breathed. Just for being with her. Heart, body, and soul he'd tied himself to a woman who had in turn anchored herself so deeply into him that pulling her mind completely out of his was enough to nearly kill her. How was it even possible that they'd bonded like they had? What would happen if he tried to withdraw his mind from hers? Would he die too? It wasn't a theory he cared to test. Enough to know that he didn't _want_ to live without her now. He was still trying to figure out how he'd gone from planning to kill her to ensure anonymity in this 'Verse to being willing to let her hook herself into his mind and heart as deeply as she had. He'd truly found his match, and she seemed to think he was hers.

In retrospect, it had started long before he'd ever found the _Hound_. It had begun with Caroline. With Imam. With Jack. The first person he could remember running _towards_ instead of away from. Back to get her from the cave. Into Crematoria to get her out. Back to the Necromongers and the fight with Zhylaw. He knew that it had been more her than the Purifier's words that had driven him into setting course for Helion Prime. Furyan he may have been, and Necros may have decimated his home planet, but in the end he didn't give a flying fuck about avenging a people he'd never heard of till a nosey Elemental put out a bounty on his head. It had been Kyra. Jack. Whoever she'd been and whatever she'd been before, she'd been his to protect. And he'd done a shit job of it too.

Would he still be here, he wondered. If Jack hadn't been on that ship, would he have let Caroline yell and cry and try to fight until he agreed to go back? If he'd stayed with her on Helion, would he have been able to protect her any better than he had Imam when the Necros came? If he'd even tried to explain what he was doing, leaving so he could draw the packs of mercs away, would it have changed the end result? Would she have still come looking, ended up in that prison? He couldn't find it in himself to hold it against her, even now. It pissed him off that she'd signed on with mercs, but the kind of training he'd gotten wasn't something she was ever supposed to know existed. He couldn't blame her for taking the Necro ship when she'd thought he was dead. Fuck, he'd thought he was dead too. Dead from the Necro guns, dead from the charge that had blown its way out of his body, dead and ashes as the sun rose. Didn't matter really. She'd seen her chance at life. He'd abandoned her again. And he'd lost her. Again.

A small hand slid up his arm as apples and rain made their way up his nose. He listened as she stepped up onto the crate behind him, and her legs settled on either side of his, cool even through the fabric, heart steady, breath even. She rested her cheek against his back as she reached forward around him and took his hands in hers. "Her life. Yours. They are streams in the river. Moving from the headwaters of birth down to the ocean. Meeting with others, carving their channels. Hers met with yours, altered your course. Brought you to me." River's voice was hardly above a whisper, and he couldn't tell if he was hearing it more in his mind than out loud. "It is a thing I'm grateful for. Sad that she died, but grateful to have found you. My Riddick."

She gave his hands one last squeeze and stood. He rumbled, not wanting her to go, but she merely moved around front and took his hands again, pulling him to his feet as she did so. "She is deserving of a final rest. Of a place of protection and safety, even in death. She whispers in the ocean, but I cannot speak to her there. I am the delta and the river. My own channel cuts through, while the waters of all flow through me." She took a deep breath and bit her lip and the slightest hint of lemons drifted off her. "For her I will risk my family's wrath. But for you," and now it was steel in his nose and fire in her eyes. "For the Riddick I will fight them if need be." And then she grinned and started pulling, backing towards the corridor leading down the bridge.

His jaguar reminded him that it also led to their bunk, and in his head she laughed. Not a giggle, a true laugh, full of life and hope. ::But her recent trip through the river has left her with more hope than worry. ETA to atmo is six hours.:: And she raised herself up to kiss him, long and hard. She still had hold of his hands, and kept them when he would have tried to wrap her in his arms. Lips trailed from his, down his jaw to his throat. She had backed him up against the wall, and the jaguar was rumbling in satisfaction as she lifted his arms to the sides and pinned them to the metal behind him with her own.

She gave an extra shove to keep them there before trailing fingers of fire up to his shoulders and down his sides. He groaned, tried to drop his head to hers, and got it pushed back against the wall for his trouble. She pressed up against him, every bit of her touching every bit of him that she could manage, and his skin was starting to light up everywhere her body met his. His chest burned, and she pulled his head down to kiss him over the lip print on his forehead. ::She will always be grateful that he was brought to her, no matter the how. No matter the why. And if her family tries to take him from her, they will find exactly how unpredictable she can be.:: Her lips on his again, and her fingers working their way up under his shirt. ::For he is _her match_ and she is _his. _And _tian xiz shou you de ren dou gai si_ if they think they can take that from us.::

He couldn't take it anymore. He lunged, gathering her in his arms and pulling her up so her legs hooked around his hips. She gasped as he took over the kiss, and her tongue met his in a small war inside their mouths as he turned so it was her back against the wall now instead of his. He braced her there, pinning her hips with his as he drug his mouth from hers and down to her shoulder. Her fingers scrabbled at his chest as she did her best to tear his shirt off his body. The animal inside rumbled, and the man wondered why he even bothered putting clothes on. River laughed inside his head at the thought, and slipped a hand down his ribs, past her leg, and yanked the blade he carried strapped to his thigh from its sheath. ::You ruin her clothes,:: she whispered into the ear of the jaguar as she bit his bottom lip and sucked. ::She will ruin yours.:: That said, she slipped the knife up and under the shirt, and he felt the cool kiss of metal as it ran up his stomach. She didn't break skin, but the cloth parted like water before the blade; and he nearly impaled himself as instinct overran reason and he did his best to melt her with the heat of his body. She got the knife out from between them just in time, and went for the shoulder seams as she bucked her hips into his and moaned.

He let her get one shoulder before rearing back and snatching at the hand with the blade in it. She let him catch hold of her wrist, but refused to give up the knife. Growling into his throat, she yanked at the back of his shirt with her free hand and managed to get it most of the way off. He shook his arm free as she nibbled her way down his neck and chest and her mind shifted inside his like a drape of silk falling over his head. Cool, smooth, settling in its own unique folds and billows; she enveloped him. Vanilla and that strange spiced musk rose in the air around them. Weapon and animal, girl and man came together and melded as he pinned first one wrist, then the other to the wall above her head, knife still clutched in her fingers, and he set his free hand to making a very detailed exploration of her breasts. She groaned as her eyes fluttered shut, and he could feel the damp through multiple layers of clothing as she pressed her center to his shaft.

::She sees a value in skirts now.:: Her voice in his head was faint, just the barest of whispers, but the two halves of his self moved as one in response. His hand left of its examinations, reached for the knife in hers, and stole it from limp fingers as she writhed and put only half effort into getting free. He was careful, so very careful, as he ran the tip of the blade up first one side of her pants, and then the other, knee to hip and then a yank to cut through the upper hemline and the drawstring that had been keeping them up. Her heartbeat fairly sang in his ears, and he'd never thought a body could put off as much heat as hers was doing. He stared at her a moment as she panted against the wall; and watched the shift and play of light as it pulsed over her body in time with his own heartbeat. Her legs clenched, hitching themselves higher up around his waist and he nearly gasped at the feel of her against him. His hands loosened on hers and she pushed him just far enough way to work an arm down between them and was working the snap before he could blink; slipping a hand inside and taking careful hold of his swollen dick and the balls beneath. Her fingers ghosted there while the other hand was working to slip the cloth from his hips. He did gasp then, and grabbed for her, pulling her up along his body so she could use her feet to shove at his pants and get them completely off. She curled up and over, burying his face in her breasts as her arms wrapped around his head, and for a moment he was content to lose his breath to her, surrounded by softness and vanilla as he was. The girl-weapon shifted in his head, reaching for the man with animal eyes and claws on his fingers. She smelled wet and welcoming, and he rumbled deep in his chest as the instinct and the rational pulled her close.

Her pants were off somehow, either through all the moving or by his grabbing he wasn't sure, but they hung in tatters from her ankles, as his pooled around his. She lowered herself by strength of legs alone, rubbing against him and smearing her scent all over before recentering herself against his length. Riddick growled, captured her mouth in his, and shifted in return. She cried out a little, and her hands ran over his head and neck until he knew he'd go mad before he came. She fought, just a little, as he pinned her wrists to the wall again with one hand, lifted her hips with the other, and lunged.

That earned him a gasping cry in the ear as he slid home and she surrounded him; wet, hot, and slick. She bucked, and again as she discovered the leverage the wall gave her, and clutched at him with her legs to pull him closer. He met and matched her, one hand on her hip, mouth all over her skin. Vanilla and musk in his nose, skin on fire where it met hers. Hands over fur and over blades that threatened but never cut, they rode each other up the current of the river, sure and swift, and then back down through the rapids of conscious thought; screaming and roaring in turn as they fell over the edge and into the mists below.

~HHYFN~

River couldn't help it. She laughed. Riddick was growling again, something about engine rooms made for space midgets and not broad shouldered convicts. He was doing his job though, switching the engine over from pulse to jet as they broke through the lower level of atmo and into the sky above Persephone. She winced as he growled at her in his head, but otherwise ignored him. There were too many ships and shuttles and obstacles in her way to worry about the oversensitive temper of the man serving as engineer at the moment, and she told him so through their bond with a grin fit to crack her face open before sobering and setting her mind to the task at hand. She was glad he was in the engine room and not in the bridge when he replied, but the mental fingers he ran down her chest in revenge was enough to make her hands clench and her eyes to glaze momentarily.

She growled at him before sideslipping the ship to avoid a particularly idiotic pilot who apparently couldn't see ten feet in front of his face. "_Da-shiang bao-tza shr duh lah doo-tze_," she snapped. "Learn to fly," she said the last over the open comms used for planetside hailing between vessels. A chorus of curses and threats answered her, but she'd found her berth. As it was, she was too taken up with sending orders down to Riddick and trying not to let the backwash of the _hwoon dahn_ above her shove them into the ground at a less than desirable rate to worry about people who should really just learn to fly. Riddick's curses layered over those of her fellow pilots, and she dropped a mental handful of dust on the jaguar's nose before ignoring him altogether.

It took a few minutes to haggle out the docking fees with port control, and another few to set the lock protocols so that even if someone managed to break into the ship while they were out, there wouldn't be an ice planet's chance in hell they could get it flying. That was her own bit of trickery, worked out of an idea from Wash, long before Miranda burned its way out her brain. If he could change the start sequence of the shuttles so Mal and Zoe couldn't leave without him, why couldn't she do it with a ship? It had worked on Serenity, and Captain Daddy had been simultaneously relieved and worried that if they ever lost her, no one would remember how to reset them. She figured that they must have, or else it had been a very exciting four months, four days and sixteen hours for them. She hoped _Serenity_ wasn't too badly damaged. She hoped Kaylee had convinced him to keep her in the repair needed for following a cold scent trail all over the 'Verse. She hadn't been focusing on those details when she'd swum the river the day before.

A beeping alerted her to the fact that everything in the bridge was locked down, and Riddick's frustrated grumble in her mind told her that he'd finished up in the engine room as well. Sighing, she picked up the pack by her feet and headed out. He'd be looking for a fight, and it was best not to give him one in such a crowded place. The space station had almost been safer. Less room to roam, nobody there without purpose, and except for vendors, very few who stayed long. The population of the Eavesdown Docks was just as fluid as the skyplex but there were far more who lurked just to lurk; and others who just plain lived among the dust and the stench, looking for any coin they could steal, grift or beg. Captain Daddy had warned her, when she first started coming with them to Badger's, never to meet the eyes of anyone and never to assume a beggar was a beggar. The tired girl on a stack of crates could just as well be a lookout for a ring of pickpockets as she could be just wanting out of the crush. She'd given him a _look_, but nodded. She'd be able to scan for trouble on an individual basis, but the throng as a whole was too disorienting to not take his wisdom to heart. Somehow, she had no doubt that Riddick wouldn't need any of that sort of advice.

The jaguar, still irritable, sought to overwhelm her senses with the smell of leather and steel, sweat and the leftovers of sex that neither had bothered to clean off before falling into the nest on the floor of his bunk the night before. He dropped from the ceiling above the hatch into the engine room, head tilted to one side as he looked for her reaction. She gifted him with a snort and a push of irritation, the pain of his fresh bruises and his appreciation of her the way her planetside clothes clung to her body. He laughed, and slung an arm over the shoulder not carrying her pack as she headed for the airlock and its controls. She let him, replacing her wariness and fear with his warmth and confidence. She'd told him this morning, over the last of the fresh fruit, what she'd found when she'd ran with the currents and listened to her crew. It had given her some small hope of the day not ending in bloodshed on either side, but the needles were still hovering on the edges of her vision.

He caught her hand as she reached for the airlock release and turned her to face him. She stared up into the goggles he'd put back on sometime between breakfast and entering the engine room for final descent and couldn't help the wave of regret that he'd had to cover up his eyes again. He was amused at that, and the man poked none-to-subtly at her mind to try to see exactly what she had to say about those eyes. But she'd locked those thoughts up in walls, only to be let out when she was good and ready. Her match he may be, but he'd still have to earn her words on his eyes. He hmmphed in her head and pulled their collective attention back to the present. ::One step at a time remember,:: he hummed against her forehead as his mental voice slid over her like warm chocolate. ::I'm the best there is at escaping.::

She snorted, but allowed the calm he was offering to slip through her veins. Pride dictated her answer, but the jaguar was gaping out a grin even before she sent it to him. ::Better to not get caught at all.::

Riddick shook his head and palmed the button that would open the airlock doors, and she felt him brace himself for the stench he knew must be outside. She in her turn threw up a few more walls between her mind and those waiting. She'd had no real relief since they landed, but it never hurt to put a little more distance there. It was only when Riddick grunted and reached a hand up to rub his temples that she realized she'd been blocking him out at well. She ran a hand down the jaguar's back in apology and took his hand and squeezed. The look he shot her was unreadable, but his fingers laced through hers and the jaguar offered its tree as her anchor and place of protection. She'd just settled herself as the dust and sunlight and smell of the Docks hit them both full in the face and Riddick's nostrils flared while his mouth turned down in a frown. She gave his hand an extra squeeze before stepping forward. "Time to go. Errands to run, fresh fruit to find. Badgers to placate."

Riddick snorted and stepped up next to her as she headed down the ramp, freeing his hand to sling the arm back over her shoulder before he let her lace fingers with his again. "Let's get this over with," he rumbled.

~HHYFN~

**Author's Note: ** Soooo….I'm gonna be gone part of the weekend. Anniversary and such, taking advantage of extra days off. Figured I'd get this up for y'all. Sorry. They haven't met the crew yet. We'll just have to wait and see how that turns out. I felt that this needed to be dealt with first. Riddick and Kyra are a still a dynamic after all, and River's very much aware of it. This lemon btw, wrote itself. I just wanted River to drag him back to the bunk, but NOOOOO. Next thing I know she'd got him pinned up against the wall. Seriously, what are they? Teenagers? I'm starting to think that horny doesn't really begin to describe them.

Also, I know I'm not explaining everything in great detail. Remember, these two are in each other's heads, putting together the pieces of their conversations based not only one what's being said but what's NOT being said. Its intuition mated to intellect. Not only that, but I am seeing information that will be explained or revealed later. I'm a great believer in reading between the lines and drawing conclusions from context. I don't like to read things that spell out every little detail, and I don't like writing them either. After all, you're all incredibly smart people. Why else would you be so interested in this pairing? XD

Shenandoah76209: Glad you liked Badger! I tried to make him nicer. He kept going grumpy. Finally we compromised. Looking forward to Jaynestown. That's gonna be a doozy. And I wouldn't worry so much about Mal. Not at first. Remember, he and the crew have had five-ish years to get used to how River works. Worry about Simon. That foot-in-mouth disease of his just might get him killed… As for the Operative, I couldn't see a way around the description I gave. I went for the person in the series least likely to be contacted by the crew in their hunt, and aside from Saffron and Jubal, he's what I came up with.

Guineverekay: I'm working on some meme type screencaps thanks to you. Should be working on the story, playing in photoshop instead. LOL. Glad the dialogue worked. It is, as I said, my weakest point as far as I'm concerned. Hope it keeps flowing. The bet, as I told you in the PM, will get explained a little better later on. Fiery Death FTW!

Rachet: Ahhh. Glad you liked it. And no, you're not slow. I'm just implying a lot and leaving things up to the readers to figure out from context. You'll see more on the shipment later. And you're right, R/R on land is gonna be ten kinds of fun. (hint: shopping for clothes)!

Translations:

_tian xiz shou you de ren dou gai si_- fuck everyone in the universe to death

_Da-shiang bao-tza shr duh lah doo-tze-_The explosive diarrhea of an elephant

_hwoon dahn-_bastard

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	17. Chapter 17

Ch. 17

_Daddy can you hear the devil drawing near?  
Like a bullet from a gun, run daddy run._  
_Saw that dark cloud coming from a million miles away._  
_Oh how I've dreaded this God forsaken day._

"Run Daddy Run", Miranda Lambert and the Pistol Annies

A man stood amidst the dust and crush of people and cursed with mind and lips. He cursed the sky for mocking him with its brightness, a badger for its smug superiority, and everyone and everything that had come between him and what was his. Thoughts rolled through his mind and from his mouth in a mix of Mandarin and English, inspiring a certain sort of awe in his companions and the occasional admiring look from a passerby. He was not being overly loud, but he was speaking from the heart, and that is a thing people almost always take notice of.

Someone had taken his Albatross. Their girl. They'd snuck onto the ship somehow and managed to set such an ambush as he would have wished to set on the Alliance. They'd shot her down in front of them and taken her and there hadn't been a thing he could do if he wanted the rest of his crew, his family, to live. The hunters had made a very bad mistake though, in not killing them all. Because as soon as they'd gotten all the explosives found and the engine patched up, the crew of _Serenity_ had put on their war faces and gone hunting.

And found nothing.

Four months. Four months with nary a whisper, a glimpse; either of their girl or the crew that had taken her. It was showing too. Tempers ran high. Kaylee had started chucking bits of engine parts at all and sundry, and she'd kicked Simon out of their bunk more than once. Jayne's rough edges had never really gone away, but he'd gotten more than a mite tetchy lately. The arrival of that_ gou tsao de_ guitar had only made things worse as far as he was concerned, and he wished it had never come aboard. Every spare minute the man had, he was playing the thing, and it was near driving the Captain to crawl out a hatch without a suit. He kept looking for the dancing figure that always seemed to accompany the sound of the music, and on not finding her, had to step firmly on the need to go shoot the damned thing to pieces.

And then there'd been the reports out of Red Sun, and Monty had tossed him the first real bit of news they'd gotten since they lost her. Saddler was dead, and his crew, in all manner of blood and violence. Blood and violence that he knew their girl just didn't have the power or body mass to accomplish. Was it that big _tah mah de _that Monty had seen pick her up in the street? Had she been _with_ him or had she been chased by him? His old friend had been less than clear on the details of what had happened on the skyplex and understandably so. Something about mercs, and gun waving, and coming around the corner of a docking bay to see a huge man with goggles pointing a gun at him between the two halves of a closing airlock hatch.

They'd turned around then, once they cut the wave with Monty. As much as it pained him to say it, Badger had been right. Flying into Red Sun and its skyplex in particular would be like walking into a hornet's nest of Alliance and bounty hunters, all looking for the girl and the man who'd left two dead in the docking bays. She'd been sighted, she was still alive somewhere, and that was enough for them to keep flying. Keep hunting. And to do that they needed this job. Gorramit all to hell anyways, they needed this job and the payday it brought. He was past caring now who wanted something shipped out to Blue Sun so bad they'd pay a hundred thousand plat, and he didn't plan to start caring.

What he did care about was the smug grin on Badger's face as he'd told them which bar to meet their contacts in. Something had crawled down his spine and taken up residence in his gut at that. The half hidden smiles on the faces of the weasel's men hadn't helped. But they needed the job. They'd been neglecting work in favor of hunting, and it was starting to show in the lean faces of the crew and a certain grinding in the engine that Kaylee claimed would blow them all to kingdom come soon if she didn't get time to fix it properly planetside.

"Sir." Mal turned to look at his first mate, and was unsurprised to see her frowning. "Sir, something ain't right about this."

On his other side, Jayne snorted. "Ain't anything right about this. That puddle of _shu ma nyaow _got something up his sleeve, bet my whole cut on it."

Mal groaned and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Tell me something new Jayne. Better yet," he glared at the gun hand. "Tell me how we're supposed to follow the only lead we got with no fuel and no money to buy any!"

"Hell Mal," Jayne threw up his hands in frustration. "What lead? Monty thinks he saw her. Well that's just _swai_! But that was nigh on five days ago. Where'd she go?"

"Info says ship that big guy stuck her on was headed for Blue Sun," Zoe put in as they started walking again.

"Which is why we're taking a job that heads us out that way," Mal said in his best Captainy voice. "See if we can't sniff them out there."

"Sure," Jayne grumbled and dodged around a pile of children playing hopscotch. "Poke around Blue Sun. Mal you know well as I do that just 'cause they were pointed out that way don't mean they stayed pointed that way."

"It's a fact I'm aware of Jayne." Mal couldn't blame the man. He knew the truth too, and trackin' things _was_ his job. "But it's a direction, and it's a damn sight more 'n we've had."

Jayne snarled as a dog ran out into the street in front of him, trailing a string of some sort of unidentifiable meat behind it. He was still muttering as he caught up with them, but Mal caught the end of his words "-why she ain't waved if she's free anyhow."

Zoe rolled her eyes and Mal shook his head. "Then if she ain't free, we get her free. Bring her home, where she belongs," he snapped, and snatched at a pickpocket's reaching hand as he went by. A swift rap on the head and the retrieval of Zoe's slim pouch of coin and they were off again.

"Sir, what if she don't want to come home?"

That brought him up so short he nearly tripped over his own feet. Jayne plowed into the back of him and down they went in a tangle of limbs, gun belts, and flapping coats. Cursing and muttering, the two sorted themselves out and Zoe helped first one, then the other to their feet. "_Shun-sheng duh gao-wahn_," he nearly shouted, and several heads turned in the crowd to look at him. He waited, panting and trying to dust himself off, mildly grateful his fall hadn't been two inches to the left and into the pile of _mah fen _he'd nearly landed in. "Run that by me again," he demanded as he settled his gun back on his hip.

Zoe hadn't blinked. "Just say'n Sir. She's a Reader. We all been so worried about her, worried about how we'll find her. Simon's been checking all those vials of drugs he's got, and you _know_ he's thinking we'll find her broken again." She set her hands behind her back and stood still as a statue, "We've all thought it sir, how to handle her if she's all _feng le_ again."

That brought him up short. "_Bizui_," he breathed, as comprehension dawned.

"Aw hell Mal," Jayne scratched at his head and frowned. "She ran before when we wouldn't listen. Zo's got a point. She can read us, why'd she want to come back?"

That earned the gun an appraising look from Captain and first mate both before they started walking again. Mal turned the idea over in his head, and truth to tell he couldn't see any holes in the logic. She'd taken drastic measures before. Maybe she really had gotten free, and was afraid to come home. His heart tightened bit at that, even though his brain told him it was practical to prepare for finding her back in the place she'd been when she'd first come aboard: Muttering in corners and throwing things at random, cursing and slashing at people with knives. She'd come far, very far since then, and to even think of her regressing… He shoved the thought from his mind and came to a decision as they reached the ship. "We'll deal with it as it comes. First we need to find her. Then, so long as we can keep the Doc from pumping her full o' who knows what, we'll see if she wants to stay."

Jayne snorted, but didn't complain, bending to scoop Sierra up as she ran giggling out of the common room, then handing her to Zoe. Something around his first mate's eyes had loosened, but she opened her mouth and he knew he was going to hate what she was about to say. "And the big guy sir?"

"Just have to see," he muttered. "He gets in our way though, you bring him down, _dong ma_?"

Zoe nodded. "Yes sir."

"Good. Meet's in a couple hours," he turned to look at the sun setting over the docks and shook his head. "We'll get this deal, get our cargo, and get fly'n."

~HHYFN~

It was a fact of life, almost a law. Have dealings with those on the less than legal side of things, and a person was pretty much guaranteed to end up in a bar at some point. Between people too drunk to remember their own names, the cover of buying alcohol for one's own self, and the general crush of bodies that could be found in a popular bar in the evenings; it was relatively easy to merge with the crowd, get in, and get out. Riddick had spent a very good part of his life on the bad side of the law, not all of it running. He'd still had to eat after all. So, cultural differences aside, he was pretty familiar with the insides of bars. This one was remarkable only in the stench. Even the rotten egg smell of Saddler's cubby on the skyplex had nothing on this place. He figured it must have something to do with the people trying to dance up near the stage while still carrying their drinks and the assorted piles of animal shit he'd had to pick through to get to the door. Not for the first time, he wondered if River chose places like this on purpose, just to cripple his nose.

The girl in question ignored the thought when he shoved it at her. She was sitting up to the bar he was leaning back against, toying with a shot glass full of something clear and nearly vibrating with the force of her emotions. He could feel them around the edges of his mind, and his animal had been snarling at them most of the day. He'd lost her scent in the stench of the place and kept his arm in contact with hers so he could feel her heart rate. It was erratic, as it had been all afternoon. First calm, then racing as some new worry occurred to her, and then calm again as he bled the worry off of her and tried to shove it down the hole he'd kept his animal in before he met her. It wasn't really working very well, and if her Captain didn't show soon, she wasn't going to be the only one a pile of nerves. And that would be bad, because loss of control of his emotions tended to end in bloodshed, and there were a lot of people between him and the door.

His animal snarled again as River shifted next to him, and the man did his best to calm it, while Riddick himself grunted and took the shot glass from her to down it. ::Don't need it,:: he muttered to her as the cheap liquid burned a path down his throat. ::You're on edge enough as it is.::

She frowned at him and called for another. ::Need the camouflage.::

It was hard to argue with that logic, but he glared anyways, more irritated with the situation than with her. She was worried, afraid of what was going to happen, and he really couldn't expect anything else when it got right down to it. He'd never been in her position, waiting for people he cared about to reject or accept him, but he couldn't blame her for it. He just wished he could be more help.

::Has been,:: she whispered in his head. ::Has put aside the big bad Riddick all day to be the one made of soft caramel.:: The calm left her voice to be replaced by something he couldn't identify. ::She is grateful, but still wishes she could be herself and not this walking pile of nerves so that you could be _yourself_.::

Riddick snorted and traced a finger up her arm. Her heart was racing again, her breath just a little faster than usual as she tried to look normal and failed. She was right about one thing. It had been a hell of a day keeping her calm. From the minute they'd stepped out of Badger's hole and back into the sunlight, she'd been jittery. Her confidence of the night before gone, her humor during the meeting with Badger faded; all of it replaced by the manic mood swings she'd been going through ever since. Fuck, if he'd known that's what the waiting was going to do to her, he'd have figured out a way to stay back at Badger's, or at least not pushed so hard to leave quickly. It stank, and the man had been beyond smug. He'd had to sit through the talk, watching the man's goons drift over every so often and place small pouches of coin on the edge of the big metal desk. Some were passing the pouches among themselves even. He'd growled just a little louder each time, and River had laughed in his head as she explained. The bet had been twofold, and no matter that it was years since it'd been made. That she'd found a man while away from the ship had apparently had just as long of odds as whether or not she'd have the guts to bring him home to her family. Apparently, Badger knew her better than his men had thought, because he was raking in a shit ton of cash. It had made him want to snap the man's neck, but River liked him and he seemed to like her ok; and for that he could have put up with badly hidden smirks and the knowing looks the guards were giving each other.

She'd even held it together through the market. He was starting to know the feeling of her burying herself in his mind for calm, and she'd climbed up into the tree and latched onto the animal so tight she almost merged with it. He'd wondered briefly why it was never the man she did that to, the thinking and planning half of himself, the half that mixed its logic with the animal's instinct. She'd shrugged and muttered something so full of technical jargon that he'd just given up on an answer. It worked, that was all he needed to know.

And it had worked. Out past the docks and into the more established shops and stalls that lined the road. She'd found her fruit, stopped at a moneylenders of some sort and come out with a different pouch of coin than the one she'd entered with; and dragged him away before he could ask how she'd gotten it. A few more stalls, one full of used clothing, which she picked over and frowned at before finally holding it up to his chest and he realized she was looking for something for _him_. He grumbled, the teenage girl running the stall had laughed fit to burst, and River had poked and prodded at him till he accepted the inevitable. They'd left with a new set of cargos for him, along with a couple of new shirts, and they had certainly fit better than what he was wearing. He'd had only a few minutes of relief at having gotten off so easy when River had grabbed him by the shoulder and put her whole weight into stopping him. They were outside an actual shop, one with women wearing fancy dresses posed in the window, and for one moment he'd been afraid the nerves had finally broken her. That had gotten him a laugh, but a laugh nonetheless, and she'd maneuvered him into a spot near the door before he'd gotten a chance to argue. "Stay," she'd grinned up at him, eyes too bright and smile too forced. "Needs to replace things he keeps ripping up." His animal had laughed at him and the man calculated ways for this to go wrong with her out of his sight, but he'd taken another look at the fluffy white concoction bobbing in the window and nodded. She could take care of herself and he would hear her if things went wrong, through their bond if nothing else. She'd patted his arm, pecked him on the cheek, and trotted into the store.

She'd lasted all the way back to the ship after that, her mind tense but not overly so, still able to laugh at him and snap back when the man poked at her and the animal nudged at her with its head. But then she'd come out of their bunk and into the cargo bay after stashing his new clothes and the contents of the bag she'd refused to let him look into and it was as if a switch had been flipped. She paced, muttered, and reeked of lemons one second, steel and fire the next. Her fingers twitched, and he could feel the calculations run from her mind to his and back out again. She had come to him where he was standing, having just dropped the deck plate back over the pit in front of the infirmary where they'd hidden Kyra, taken one look over his shoulder at the room behind him and was abruptly gone. Halfway across the bay and up the crates there before he even registered the movement. While one part of him had been duly impressed, the other thought she should be climbing a tree in his mind, not crates in the real world.

She had stayed up there, wearing a path along the top three boxes in the stack, and hadn't even noticed when he'd started the climb them, slowly, carefully. Not worried that he'd tip anything over, but that she'd notice and try to take flight, to run who knew where. To fight him. He'd pushed calm at her with every movement, offering her sanctuary in his head, but she didn't notice. Steel was rising in the air and ramming its way up his nose, freshly sharpened blades that cut and burned, but she wasn't giving off any of the other signals that usually meant he was about to collect a new set of bruises. He could smell the lemons too, but somehow it was the witch-hazel of her insanity that had spooked him the most.

He'd gained the top of the stack and she'd still been ignoring him, even when she'd walked right into him. He'd pinned her in his arms, knocked her feet out from under her, turned and dropped them both into a seated position on the crates. She'd only given him a token struggle, and soon enough he'd had his ankles locked over hers and both of her hands pinioned in his. They'd sat there he didn't know how long as she panted in his grasp and he tried to reach her with both mind and voice. Eventually her breathing had stilled and apples and rain had crept back into her scent. He'd waited a few minutes more before released her hands and running his fingers up her sides. And that's when he got his major surprise of the day so far. "River," he'd asked carefully. "What are you wearing?"

The fabric of her shirt was the same as always, but under it he could feel a hard seam, and something that didn't have quite as much give as clothes usually did. She'd giggled, an almost normal sound that had given him some hope for the rest of the day not going to shit, and lifted the hem of her shirt to show him. Grayish fabric of a middle shade, thick and heavy, had encased her like a second skin, and a thorough going over of her torso revealed that it covered her from collarbone to hips and down her arms as well. She'd laughed again when he gave her a look and leaned back. "Not the promised corset. May still get that." He'd growled and she'd patted his knee. "Body armor."

And just like that, things were serious again. He'd stiffened, and prodded at the public areas of her mind as he'd turned her to look her full in the face. "Body armor." It wasn't a question. And it was.

She'd nodded, and peat leavened with witch-hazel rose in the air, lemons giving way before them. "Came to tell you. Came to get you. But," she'd shuddered. "Something wrong in the air. Not watchers, not hunters. Unsure," and a hand had reached out to lace her fingers with his. "Calculations have too many variables. Got armor to stack odds. Can't not go out, maybe is only the crew making her nervous." Huge dark eyes had met his as charcoal joined the witch-hazel. "But he is right. Need to muddy the trail. Turning from Blue Sun helped, but so long as we have Kyra, will need to make a straight course for Haven eventually." Her fingers had twitched and jerked, and he'd recaptured her ankles to keep her feet from doing the same. She hadn't seemed to need an answer; it was as if the words were spilling from a well that had been uncapped and was overflowing. Her presence in his head was more like a small earthquake at the edges of consciousness than the firm grip that it usually was.

So he'd held her, done his best to draw her nerves into himself, although still didn't know how or why it should work; and waited for the spell to pass. She was right. They still needed to do this. But he was getting fucking tired of running, and the urge to find the people who'd put this newest bounty on her head and rip them limb from limb was getting stronger every minute. At some point, he wasn't sure when, she'd gone still. A check of her breathing and heart told him she'd worried herself to sleep. He'd taken her back to their bunk and laid her in the nest on the floor, the bed having been covered in her purchases. He'd fingered the new bits of lace a moment before moving on to the grayish shirt, sleeveless in this case, that she'd set alongside the new cargos and shaken his head. Domesticated, that's what he was. Soft over a girl who could, when she was in the mood and had the jump on him, probably gut him and skin him out before he knew what was happening. At least there was always a chance at violence with her. Life would never be boring. He might need to go kill some deserving motherfucker in high command again if it ever got boring.

A hand slid up his arm, warm and wrong. Cheap perfume, more alcohol based then any scent he could name, drifted up and made him flare his nose in distaste. Yanked as rudely out of his thoughts as he had been, he glared down at the frazzle haired blond that had sidled up next to him. The effect was, as always, diminished some by the goggles he was wearing, and she was either too drunk to be warned off or too fascinated to be smart.

He growled at her for good measure before turning to check on River, whose presence in his mind was still jittery, but laced with steel. He could almost visualize her there, but the figure was that of the girl made of blades, not the waif that usually crawled up into the tree with the animal. She was staring at a vid screen behind the bar, shot glass in her hand forgotten as she mouthed the words of the dancing children trying to sell…something. "Hey," he touched her arm. "You in there?"

"Aww, ya can see she's ignor'n ya." The blond again, and he nearly snarled as her fingers started to drift down his chest. "Now me, ah' won't be ignor'n ya at all. Pay ya all sorts of attention."

A slim hand reached past him and wrapped itself around the woman's wrist. Riddick blinked, but River was still ignoring him. Instead, she'd fixated on the blond, and hopped of her stool to get a better grip, tilting her head to stare intently at the stranger. "Not hers to touch," the girl whispered, and the sound sent a chill down the back of his neck. He knew this voice. It was the one she'd used right before the Reaver fight, when she warned him not to push her for a reaction in the aftermath. The one she'd shrieked at him in as she tried to bury a shiv in the back of his neck when he hadn't taken the advice to heart. It was laced with something else though, something cold and beyond inhuman. Mechanical almost. He pushed at her with his mind and found a wall where her consciousness should be. A wall made of blades that he couldn't climb or bull his way through unless he wanted to come out just as damaged as she was.

The blond was struggling, trying to get free of River, but the girl had dug her heels in and wasn't letting go. If it hadn't been for the state of her mind, he would have been amused by the possessiveness she was showing, but as it was he could only set himself to trying to break her hold on the strange woman, one finger at a time. He did his best to stretch himself towards her mind as he worked, looking for a way past that fluid wall of sharp edges. "Ya want to let go? Think she gets the picture."

"Oh, ah get it," the blond was starting to get frantic now, and gave her hand a little jerk to try and get free. "She's yours, you're hers, got the picture. Can ah' go now? Didn't mean no harm!" Her voice cracked on the last word, and Riddick worked a little faster to get River's fingers unwrapped from her wrist.

"Blunt the knives, dull the blade," River leaned forward and hissed like and angry cat in the woman's face. "Follow the river but don't you wade." Witch-hazel, steel, and fire poured off of her as knives sliced at the edges of his consciousness. "Turn the mill to grind the bones; river, river go flowing home."

Riddick pried the last finger free just as he felt the ocean of metal close over his head. The tinny sound of the commercial on the vid screen behind him was echoing oddly in his ears and he realized it was coming to him from River the way she heard it. Something in his bones hummed, and the animal within woke in a snarling rage. But he didn't have time for that now. Rooting himself as firmly in the present as he could, he reached for the stench of the bar, the feel of the chair beneath him; anything but what was pouring into his head from River's.

He heard her shriek "She touched that which is not her's to own," and felt her body flying past his. A glimpse of blond hair as the strange woman's head snapped back, and then the world went red. He managed one last thing before he lost himself, and the animal that forced the words out his throat in a roar. "_River_!"

~HHYFN~

Mal was still in a bad mood. It had, in fact, gotten worse as the day went on. Between Jayne's bitching about the job, Kaylee griping about the need for repairs, Simon's worry over his sister, and the hundred and one other things that needed to be done before they could get this fresh cargo and get the hell off this planet, he was ready to start shooting. Something. Anything. Luckily Zoe had dragged him out of the ship before he either cold-cocked Simon or told Sierra she was never allowed to set foot on real ground again. That little girl had an unnatural love of planetside, if he did say so himself, and seemed convinced that if they'd just let her out to go look for her River, the Reader would show up lickety split. Poor kid had been taking the brunt of things the past few months. They'd nearly lost her once on Summerhome when she'd taken it into her head that River just _had_ to be there and gone trucking out of the cargo bay and into the forest nearby with nary a one of them noticing.

At the moment she was with Kaylee, who'd distracted her with a game that involved a pile of sticks and not much else. He wasn't gonna ask. So long as they kept her on ship, he didn't really care what they did to keep his goddaughter from noticing that her mother was gone.

"You've got the face again Sir."

Mal gave his first mate a blank look. He knew what she meant, but it was fun to prod at her. Getting a rise out of her these past few years had been harder than ever. Unfortunately, she knew this game, and matched him stare for stare. Behind the two, Jayne snorted as he hopped out of the mule and gave the bar in front of them a once over. It didn't smell any worse from outside than most bars did. Piss, vomit, dust and sour alcohol mixed with the smell of frying meat, peppers, and hot cooking oil. Loud music vibrated through the thin walls, and people in all stages of drunkenness milled around the entrance. Out for fresher air, out to empty the contents of their stomachs, out to take care of business that really should have gone on behind closed doors; even some on their way in. Mal wrinkled his nose. "Zoe."

"Sir?" Zoe held out a stiff arm to keep a particularly greasy specimen of the male gender from getting any closer.

"I say we do this real fast."

Jayne snorted, shouldered a couple half out of their clothes off to one side, and leveled his gun at the man when he tried to protest. Zoe shook her head, stepped over them, and set her heel to the hand that had reached for her ankle. "Can't say I disagree with you sir."

Ironically, the crush of people eased once they made it inside the door. Apparently, all those too drunk to pay for any more booze got kicked out to make way for people who could. A vid screen by the door was blaring a commercial for something, and the tinny voices of the children on the screen made Mal wince as he walked by. The music had paused as the audio system switched songs and they were just rounding the corner of the entryway into the main area of the bar when they heard a crash, several voices screamed, and someone roared "_River_!"

The three froze, looked at each other, and clawed their way over the last few people between them and the main room to get a clear view of what was happening. It was hard to tell at first. Women were running, men were standing up to see who'd caused the ruckus, and there along the bar itself was a knot of people that couldn't seem to decide which way they were going. The choice was made for them as the center of the pile flew outward, propelled by the fists and feet of a slight young woman with dark hair and a blank face. Mal cursed, Jayne groaned. "Not again."

The Captain managed to drag his eyes away from the sight of their Reader, once again gone haywire in a room full of drunks, so he could meet the resigned eyes of his hired gun. "You remember them words?"

It was Zoe that answered. "Nope. Been too long. And Simon ain't got around to teaching us yet."

"Just ruttin' great," Jayne muttered, and turned back to the fight. Something had changed in the dynamic of it. One of the men on the floor had picked himself up and launched himself, roaring, at their girl. He wasn't overly tall, but he was muscled along the lines of a brick wall and seemed to be giving as good as he got. River couldn't keep him down, even after she'd knocked over every other would be attacker. Some had looked to be trying to get her under control; and some just plain wanted to be a part of the fight. None of them lasted more than a second or two against her. The man was taking out his fair share as well, using the moments between catching River by the ankle and throwing her over the bar to kick one man in the gut and lay the next out with a solid punch to the temple. Mal saw blood fly on that one, and figured the guy for dead before he hit the floor.

Then River came flying back over the bar, feet aimed at the stranger's head and her legs wrapped around his neck as her momentum carried her onwards. Mal winced and felt Zoe stiffen next to him. But the man moved with her, rolling and twisting so that she landed flat on her back. He stilled for a moment, and although it was hard to tell with the dark goggles in the way, it almost seemed like something in his face cleared. His hesitation cost him, and River bounced up to fling a punch at his diaphragm with the added power that the movement had given her. He caught the fist, twisted her arm out of the way, and grabbed her by the throat with his other hand. "River," he yelled in her face, and the veins were standing out on his bald head as he dodged another swing and dropped to kick her legs out from under her. She went down, rolled backwards, and popped right back up, spinning to catch one of the other patrons a kick in the jaw before refocusing her attention on the big stranger.

The three crewmembers of Serenity stared at each other. Mal felt his jaw open and close a couple times before he managed to force any words out. "You don't think-" He didn't know what he thought. Or didn't think. What he _knew_ was that his Reader was alive and looked to be trying to kill someone who was a good enough fighter that she couldn't take him down in one hit and move on. It was all sorts of ominous in his book, and while he didn't really want to shoot her, he couldn't come up with a way to stop her from taking out the rest of the bar before the big man finally got a firm grip on her and snapped that skinny little neck with his huge hands.

"Jayne," the captain finally said, as he reached for his gun.

The other man grumbled, but peeled out of his jacket and handed it over to Zoe, along with his big Bowie knife, gun, and the other assorted bits of weaponry hidden on his person. "I git kilt," he said finally. "'S on your head Mal."

Zoe snorted and turned to dump the merc's gear to one side, but Mal raised a hand, watching as the barkeep stood from his hiding place near one end of the long counter and raised a sawed-off shotgun to his shoulder. The noise of it boomed through the air, but neither the girl nor the stranger were anywhere near it. The man had grabbed the tub of lard trying to get a choke hold on him and tossed him into the line of fire; whereas River had leaped up on the near end of the bar, landed on all fours, and was running for the man with the gun. He seemed to realize what had happened about the time the gut shot victim of the blast dropped to the floor and the strange man lunged for River. He reached her before she got to the barkeep, grabbed her around the waist, and heaved. She went flying, landed on her back on the last table standing, and tumbled off the other side before landing in a crouch on the floor.

"Jayne, you gonna do something, best make your move," Mal muttered out of the corner of his mouth as he started to sidle around the wall and towards the bar. "Zo, you stay here. Just in case."

She nodded, mouth set in an unhappy line, but it was an order and she would obey. She'd dumped Jayne's gear on a nearby chair, unclipped the snap on her thigh holster, and fingered her mare's leg as Mal attempted his version of stealth and Jayne started forward. By the time the three at the door had gotten themselves sorted out, River had lurched forward, almost on all fours, and braced her hands on the floor to kick up at the man with both feet. He blocked, crossing his wrists in front of him to catch the blow aimed for his chest and sweep it aside. She rolled under his reaching hands, between his legs, and came up behind him, one of the abandoned guns on the floor in her hand now.

That's when Jayne hit her, grappling the gun hand around behind her back and twisting to try and make her let go. She swung her other elbow up and caught him in the temple, and the tall merc grunted in pain before reaching for that hand as well. And then the stranger was there, roaring something along the lines of "_Not yours_," and River kicked out, using Jayne's body as her brace to land a foot each in the man's throat and face. He went down, snarling, and lunged back up inside her reach. Jayne was yelling in her ear, but she didn't seem to hear him. Instead, she twisted her gun hand free and fired. The bullet went wide, scoring a line in the man's shirt as it went on to bury itself in the wall. But she'd brought the hand up in a swing, as if she knew he'd dodge the bullet, and she struck him in the temple with the butt end of her gun just as his fist met her face and snapped it back into Jayne's,.

And then there was silence, broken only by the cries and moans of the injured. Mal stared down at the bodies around him, some moaning, some bleeding, some not moving at all. Jayne was crawling out from under the two that had landed on him. Both the River and the stranger with the goggles were out, and he was almost afraid to check for a pulse on either. By the door Zoe was lowering her mare's leg, face still wary, but ear cocked to the outside. Mal stilled. Sirens. Faint, but coming closer. He toed at the stranger's foot and gave Jayne a hand up before leaning down to pull River out from under the big man. "Get him too," he said, nodding at Jayne. "I want answers."

Muttering about heavy lifting, big _hwoon dahns_ that had to stick their noses where they didn't belong, and the 'Verse in general; Jayne crouched, pulled the stranger into an awkward fireman's carry, and started to stagger forward. Zoe stuck her head out the door, grabbing Jayne's gear in one hand, and covering the outer perimeter with her mare's leg in the other. "Clear," she called softly, before propping open the door so the men could make it through. Five minutes later and they'd managed to wrestle their Reader and the stranger into the back of the mule. Another thirty seconds and they were gone, just before the authorities dropped out of the sky.

~HHYFN~

**Author's Note: ** Huge thank you to everyone who reads, follows, favs, and most of all REVIEWS this story. I love you all. Love seeing the view count climb and getting notices about new comments. Makes my day so much happier!

Did it go as expected? This was actually the hardest chapter to write so far. I had it planned. I knew exactly what was going to happen. But the set up was a pain, 'cause I kept having to remind myself that the characters themselves weren't looking for this ending. They were looking for something entirely different. I thought about giving more time to the meet with Badger, but it just felt like rehashing the last conversation with him. As far as Riddick's concerned he's a bottom feeder who is just useful enough to keep alive, and the fact that he hasn't sold River out so far helps. Other than that, our Furyan isn't so much impressed.

Now we get into some of the most fun, and most torturous chapters, at least for me. I can't just play with two people. Now I have to keep track of the whole crew. Add to that the fact that I've written 170 words in the past month, and my hands are really starting to hurt. I might slow things down in the update dept. Not sure. Gonna hafta see if I can keep up the pace or not. Dom Toretto's burning through my brain too, and he keeps wanting to take a side trip to this version of _Serenity_. Can you imagine Riddick and Toretto meeting? OOF. As I write this, I actually keep as many mental references to Dom's behavior in my head as I can Riddick's. Aside from Vin playing them both, there's that soft caramel center the two characters have under all the badassery, and it's loads of fun to noodle around with.

As always, I don't own any of it. Wish I did. But I don't

Shenandoah76209: Glad you liked it. I wanted a scene that played on Riddick's regrets, and the path he's taken to get to where he is now. I'm gonna be holding off on the lemony goodness for a bit. Think I've made my point with these two, at least for now. Hope you liked this chap, gonna toodle off and drop you a line about Animals here in a minute or so!

Rachet: Lol. Cats in heat. That works. I'm figuring all the pheromones these two give off, they could probably trigger fertilization in people from two miles up in atmo. Yummy eh? Thanks for your take on Badger! Had an awesome weekend. Got a shotgun from the hubby. Yay!

Elliesmeow: Glad you liked them. And yes, the bond opens up a whole new dynamic. Gives me lots of stuff to play with

Translations:  
_gou tsao de_: Dog humping

_tah mah de:_ Mother fucker

_shu ma nyaow: S_tinking horse piss

_swai: _Handsome

_Shun-sheng duh gao-wahn_: Holy testicle Tuesday

_mah fen: _Horse shit

_feng le_: Crazy

_Bizui:_ Shut up

_dong ma:_ Understand

_hwoon dahns:_ Bastard

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	18. Chapter 18

Ch. 18

_I wonder if you'll look the same_

_When you embrace me on that day_

_Will you remember my name_

_When I return home again?_

"From December" Project 86

He heard noises first. The deep rhythmic thrumming in his ear and the whir of fans somewhere had been a constant for a while. The slide of a hatch opening and footsteps were what pulled him out of the near cryo-like state he'd fallen into, but his head was too fogged to process much more than that. His nose caught metal, dust, and food. Leather, antiseptic and gun oil followed. His mistake then was to reach for River in his head, instead of trying to key into his surroundings. But although she was there, intact and rooted as firmly as ever, she wasn't _thinking_ anything. So when the hand touched his face and fingers pried open an eyelid, he let it happen. Couldn't stop it really. He was a little amazed he was still breathing.

And then light.

Riddick roared and tried to cover his eyes. But his hands were chained and the cuffs bit into his wrists and drew blood as he tried to yank himself free. Instinct overruled mind and he lashed out with his feet, catching someone in the knees and toppling them. He grunted when they landed, badly, over his still thrashing body, and the man knew that if he could just get his legs free of the weight he could do some real damage to whoever had had the supreme idiocy of shining a fucking penlight directly in his eyes. He could feel his retinas burning, and the burst pattern was seared into his eyelids as he squeezed them shut and tried to figure out how many others were in the room. The animal was more concerned with the _pain_ and where the fuck River was. People were shouting, someone was trying to help the one who'd fallen, and running feet were everywhere. He tried to crack his eyes open, hoping it would be dim enough to get his bearings, but someone had turned on a light and he only succeeded in making himself wish he'd never had eyes at all.

And then she was there. Screeching through his mind. Screeching in his ears. Her voice was faint to the physical, but loud in the mental. He grunted again, and his hands tried to come down over his ears this time. He was just as unsuccessful, and fresh pain raced up his arms from his wrists as his body moved up to meet them instead of them coming down to guard him. He had a second to wonder if the links in the cuffs could be snapped and how much more his arms would get torn up as he tried to find out when the unmistakable feel of a gun barrel made itself known on his forehead.

He stilled, eyes clenched shut and teeth bared in a snarl as he breathed and searched for information with his other senses. Gun oil, leather, faint incense, soap, anger, and confusion. Heartbeats in a small space told him there were at least four people, and the angry voices confirmed it. He tried to listen for River, but she'd stopped screeching and gone quiet even in his head. He couldn't even see her there, and the animal and the man only knew that the bond hadn't been broken. He could feel her though, thoughts racing; but she'd walled him out of her mind and he couldn't tell what she was doing. The gun barrel hadn't moved from his head, and the flat rage coming from its owner made it a little more important at the moment. Couldn't find River if he was dead after all.

"Now," it was a man, the same one who'd met with Badger while he and River had eavesdropped a few days ago. The Captain. "If you're done with the thrashing an' try'n ta kick our Doc ta pieces, think you got some questions need to be answer'n."

Riddick snarled and yanked on his cuffs again. Fuck this guy. He had questions of his own. Like where was River? And where the fuck was he? The ratcheting click of a hammer being pulled back only served to piss him off even more. Did this man really think that would scare him?

Neither got their answer. There was a yell of surprise from the door, a thud as a body landed, and a draft of apples and rain along with steel and cool water washed over him. He'd never smelled anything so good, and his animal rumbled a purr deep in his chest as the man grinned in slow anticipation. Too bad the lights were on; he couldn't watch her work the way he was now. He set himself to track her by sound, and tipped his head back so he could better catch that smell. Interesting, how you could miss a thing when you hadn't even been awake to know it was gone.

Another body, shouting on the part of the Captain, something about a 'Tross and what the hell was she doing. The question ended in a yelp as the gun clattered off somewhere, and then River was screeching again. Not in his head though, a thing he'd be forever grateful for. "No!" Another thud, more flying bits of weaponry. The rage of the others was mostly gone, replaced by confusion. "The stars are meant for darkness and night, not daylight and bright pain!" River again, and she slapped at something that sounded hard and made of metal before hitting something else much softer. A grunt of pain told him it was the Doc. "No saying the words," she snarled.

Riddick snorted. ::About time. Where you been girl?::

And then she was there, crouching over him, hands fluttering over his pulse and then up his arms. Something small and thin was pressed into one hand before she stood again, and he could smell the steel rage boiling off of her and feel the heat of her body as she placed herself between her him and her crew. ::Locked in her bunk,:: she shot back, ::Now get those cuffs off before they try to turn the light back on::

That was promising. He sent her a mental caress as he snapped his eyes open to see what was going on. Sure enough, she was standing over him, fists clenched and every line of her body speaking pain on the next person to cross her. The room was tiny, and the bodies of her crew spilled out of it into the one beyond, which was also dark. He figured it she must have turned off the lights there as well. Assorted groans and muttered curses met his ears as the others untangled themselves from each other and tried to stand. The Captain made it upright first, cursing in Chinese as he fixated on River. Riddick felt a growl building in his chest, and he worked a little faster with the hairpin River had given him to get the unfamiliar locks on the cuffs undone. A big man he vaguely remembered from the bar was next, and hard blue eyes over a fixed scowl turned on River as he pulled a giant Bowie knife from his belt. River slapped it from his hand before he had a chance to start forward with it, and he knew she was glaring at the man even as she blocked the Captain when he reached for her.

"No!" The word rang in his ears, and he looked over to see the Doc bracing himself against the wall and reaching for a panel of buttons. "No light," her voice was shrill, packed with more frustration than he'd ever heard from her. "You must _listen_! _Bizuie! __Shi mu ching er!_"

The four froze. Riddick was impressed despite himself. River gave him an amused mental poke before going back to ignoring him. He didn't really care. He was out of one cuff, and it was making the second easier.

"River," said the Doc, in a slow careful voice meant to calm, hands steady as he reached for the panel again. "We need to see. There are no stars inside." Rage boiled through Riddick, and River shrieked and flew forward, grabbing the man's hands and yanking until she'd gotten her brother away from the wall.

"No," she yelled, and raised a fist. A quick glance showed the other three reaching as slowly as they could for their weapons. The dark skinned woman had already gotten hers, maybe when she was picking herself up off the floor, and was turning to cover him while the others kept their focus on the girl in their midst. Riddick snarled and glared at her just as a last wiggle of the hairpin loosened the cuff. She jerked in surprise and cursed in Chinese under her breath. The others didn't notice. They were still trying to talk River down. He watched as the woman took one hand off her sawed off gun and reached for her Captain's shoulder. The distance was too far to go from his position and the range too short for her to miss if he tried to take her. He couldn't catch her personal scent with the mix of fear and rage in the room, but her heart rate was as steady as her breathing, having only jumped slightly when she caught sight of his eyes. A cool one, this woman.

"Cap'n," she murmured, taking the man by the shoulder and pulling gently. "You want to see this."

"What," he snapped as he turned to face her. "Got us a little bit of crazy to deal with Zo."

In his head, Riddick heard the wordless snarl of River's weapon self, and his animal matched it. The sound stayed in his chest, and he rumbled in anger as he pulled his legs under him in preparation for making the lunge that would close the distance between him and the Captain. Big gauge be damned, he could make it. The woman pulled the lever action on the gun and raised it a little higher. The noise got the attention of the rest of the people in the room.

Riddick stilled and River let go of her brother to step in front of the gun. "No putting them out," she hissed, and suddenly there was a blade in her hand. "You will all _listen_ to the girl or she will start putting out their own stars. She did not want violence, but she will respond in kind if they do not back off!"

Riddick snorted as quietly as he could, even as he rose into a crouch. ::Stars?::

::Shut up!:: He knew that she was turning colors, and steel mixed with just a bit of burnt sugar rose in the air.

He laughed, and that drew the attention back to him. The Doc lost his balance and landed up against the wall again. The other two men breathed out curses and stiffened. Surprise and fear rolled off of them in waves, and he curled a lip in satisfaction at the response. Finally, people with the sense to know what was dangerous. The woman with the sawed off hadn't moved, although her eyes had flickered ever so slightly from him to River and back before remaining on him. He waited a moment, just to see if any of them were more trigger happy than safe, before rising from his crouch to his full height. The three with weapons tensed and aimed just a little straighter.

The standoff was broken by a shrill cry somewhere deep in the ship. Three heads jerked around, and the dark skinned woman sighed and rolled her eyes. The cry came again, closer, and he could hear words in it. "Riiiiiiiiiiveeeeeer!"

Someone ran into the room just outside the bolt hole they were all stuck in, tripped over what sounded like a chair, and kept going. High and shrill, Riddick winced when the child called River's name again as she plowed into the back of the Doc and started trying to wiggle through the bodies. Taking advantage of the distraction which had claimed even the first mate now, he closed his telltale eyes and moved up behind River until he could feel the heat from her body radiating into his skin. ::Stars?::

::Guides in the night sky,:: she told him shortly. Her attention was on the child and the guns the crew were still holding. The girl appeared in his mind and latched on to the animal where it stood in front of the tree. It paused its vigilance long enough to rub its jaw against her leg before going back to watching the potential enemies before them.

He took a careful breath of the air around her to try and get a read on the feelings she was hiding from his mind. Steel overpowering lemons, apples and rain, cool water, and- ::Blood,:: he asked, surprised. She wasn't giving any indications of pain, and it wasn't a fresh smell. Old. A few days actually. Had her feet gotten hurt again?

The group by the door had managed to collar the child as she tried to force her way into the room, and the gun hand was holding her up to face height with one hand fisted in the back of her vest as the Captain turned different colors of what Riddick guessed was purple. The little girl was yelling at him in a mix of Chinese and Common, ignoring the Doc as he tried to reason with her. "What are the rules on this boat," the dark woman snapped finally, not taking her eyes from River. "Sierra, what are the rules?"

"No one else follows them!"

"And they have the bullet holes and scars to show for it!" That was the doctor, a prissier man Riddick had never seen, and the reply surprised him into a chuckle. River laid a careful hand on his leg behind her back as the group paused to glare at him.

A fresh squawk from the kid drew their attention again, and Riddick took advantage of their distraction to poke at River's mind. Something wasn't quite right there. She was uncomfortable, nervous even. He took another breath and got his answer. He nearly laughed again, but sudden stiffening of her body and the rush of burnt sugar and steel killed the sound in his throat. ::_Menstrual_ blood,:: he said, and let his mind do the laughing for him.

She snarled in his mind, just as a new voice called out from the other room. "Cap'n?" It was a woman, hesitant and shaky. "Cap'n, you got Sierra? She took off on me." A thud and a scuffling noise as the unknown crew member tried to navigate the room. "Why are the lights out? Is River ok? That big man loose?"

Riddick snorted to himself. Must be the mechanic. The only one besides the fancy lady who hadn't poked her nose in yet.

"Keep 'm out Kaylee," the Captain yelled, "We got Sierra." He turned to the little girl again and shook a finger in her face. "Now, you go with Kaylee. _Listen_ to her or so help me..."

The girl stuck her tongue out at him, tried to swat at the arm holding her up, and was caught by her mother. The woman kept her gun trained on the two in front of her as she snarled, "The common room better shine when we get down there again. And then you will go pick up all the toys I _know_ you left all over the spare passenger dorm. _Dong ma_?"

The girl was lowered back to the deck, and she muttered "_Kuh-ooh duh lao bao jurn_."

The gun hand caught her a firm smack over the head for that, "Hey now, none o' that till you're big enough to back it up. Now scat, or your tyrant momma's gonna land you with even more chores." Riddick swallowed another chuckle and River sighed in front of him.

He couldn't help it any more. He threw his head back laughed. He heard the heart of the mechanic stutter momentarily at the sound before she gathered up her charge and hustled her away from the rest. The Captain shot him a look before calling "And go check on 'Nara. Think she's in River's bunk," over his shoulder at the pair. Running feet were his answer, and Riddick just shook his head and laughed a little harder as one of River's bare heels tried to grind its way through his boot

::_Hwoon dahn _will care very much in a moment,:: She shot at him in answer to the thoughts about her crew that the animal had been pushing her way, giving his foot one last stomp as the crew put their serious faces back on. ::It is worse than just no sex for another few days.::

That shut him up pretty effectively, and he could feel her pull just a bit more of her focus from his mind and aim it towards her crew, while the figure of the girl climbed his tree and latched onto the animal. "See," she said, as she reached a hand back towards him. "She is not broken! Will never be completely sane, but she. Is. Not. _Broken_!"

The sentence ended in a shout and she stood there, fists clenched at her sides, radiating fear, anger and ozone. Her breath was coming in fast pants and her heart raced. He could imagine the look on her face, and matched its desperation to the new scent. This was it. The crux, the turning point. This was where they'd all have to make their choices. Her crew to listen and accept her as what she was; or him to start making good on his promise to cut down everyone who stood between him, his match, and freedom. He traced a finger up her spine where they couldn't see and felt muscles relax slightly under his hands as some of the citrus scent of terror faded from her. He felt her in his mind, reaching for calm, and he gave it to her, looking for her read of the crew through her extra senses as he did so.

Shock and anger, those weren't very surprising. Doubt too. The approval, that was odd, and he frowned until River helped him pin that one to the first mate. Resignation from the Captain. Denial though, that was strong, and it didn't surprise him at all that it came from the Doc. And then he was being shoved, ever so gently, from River's mind as she crossed her arms and stared at her crew. He caught a thread of calculation, something to do with time, before she walled it off from him, and the man inside caught at it to try and figure out what the math meant. The jaguar just laid its chin on the girl's knee and regarded him steadily. This was, in the end, her fight to win or lose. He'd stick with her no matter what, but he couldn't affect the outcome.

It was the Doc who spoke first, pushing between the captain and the gun hand and reaching for the girl with both hands. "River," his voice was sad and condescending all at the same time. "River, when did you last meditate?"

She snarled and backed away from him and into Riddick's chest; he brought up his hands to steady her as she tried to keep right on going. He hadn't missed the fact that there were still guns pointed at his head, but the Captain was letting the hammer down on his and holstering it. The Doc had stopped moving, and his face was as concerned as his scent was full of fear and worry. "River," and it was a plea.

"She will leave!" River stomped her foot and glared up into the man's face. "She will leave again and _never_ come back!" Riddick could smell her tears, and when she pulled away from him to lean up into the other man's face he almost couldn't let her go. But she wasn't up in the branches of the tree any more, seated instead on the great spreading roots at its base, and all of her focus was on the man in front of her. "She is not _ni zi_ anymore Simon! Not out of her mind except when she is! And if you think to wrap her back up in chains of cotton and wool you will find out _exactly_ what the Academy made of her!" She was shrieking now, and the gun hand was wincing at the noise, but he kept his firearm pointed her way. Riddick could sympathize. The space they were in was fucking _made_ to echo noises at high volume and pitch and his ears would be ringing for a while after that last outburst.

The Doc, Simon, looked lost. Emotions ran one after the other over his face, and his mouth worked as he tried to come up with some sort of response. It was the Captain who spoke up, voice low and full of humor. "You know 'Tross, you're pretty much asking your brother there to stop being himself. Ain't gonna be a time he ain't worried about you." He was fingering his gun in its holster as he spoke, and Riddick found himself certain that this man at least, knew exactly what River was capable of. Light eyes flickered up to meet silver before going back to the girl. "Me now, I figure you're sane enough for the moment. The stars' been explained after all," and the corners of his mouth twitched as amusement overpowered the fear in his scent. "But," his voice was dead serious, and there was a look in his eyes that almost made Riddick think he might be dangerous in the wrong circumstances. "You and this big _hwoon dhan_ killed at least ten people in that bar, put a minimum o' fifteen more in critical care, and left a whole pile of witnesses for the Feds to question. Gotta tell me 'Tross. Were you sane then?"

Something in River crumpled at that, wet earth and ozone rose in the air and a good bit of the steel went out of her spine. Riddick waited, as the animal hopped down to lay its head in her lap and the man took up a defensive stance in front of the two. She shifted in his mind, and he reached for her's, feeling the sense of wrongness growing and still no explanation. Finally she sighed and ducked her head. "Triggered," she muttered, twisting her hands together as she stared down at them.

The Captain's hand came away from his gun, and he laid it on the arm of the big gun hand. The man frowned, eyes flicking from River to Riddick to his Captain, but he finally grimaced and holstered his gun. That left just the sawed off to worry about. "Triggered," the Captain murmured, as the Doc's face twisted up in denial and something Riddick couldn't really place at the moment. The man stepped forward, pushing the prissy rich boy back towards the gun hand and leaning down to tip River's chin up. Riddick bit back a growl. "This a diffr'nt one than last time?

"Different," that was the Doc, and he pulled himself out of the grip of the gun hand and towards the Captain and River. "What do you mean different?"

They ignored him, though Riddick eyed him warily. River was still staring at her Captain, and he could feel the tension rising to the surface in her. Whatever was on her face must have been answer enough. The Captain waited another moment, shook his head, and then straightened. "Well then, figure it's all up to the Doc. Simon," he turned to grab the rich kid and drag him forward. "Time ta make a choice. Needles an' scream'n an' blood; or believ'n her when she says she's fine?"

Riddick raised a mental eyebrow at River. ::Wrap you up in chains eh?::

She growled at the animal and man both, and the Captain stiffened in surprise as the sound worked its way out of her throat.

::Not helping,:: she snarled before refocusing her attention on her brother. He was shifting from foot to foot, concern and fear on his face and in his scent. River got, if anything, even tenser and fairly vibrated in place. The three by the door were watching warily, fingering guns in holsters and alternating their watchful eyes between River, her brother, and only very occasionally, Riddick himself as they waited for real trouble to start.

Finally, when he was about ready to just hit the Doc over the head and drag River out of there, guns or no guns, the man opened his mouth and words came out. "River, I-"

"Yes or no _ge ge_!" River crossed her arms and glared. "It is very simple. Do you want your _mei mei_ to turn back into a china doll for you to wrap up and hide in a box, pretty and _useless_, or do you want to see what the broken pieces form and love her for _that_? The girl is done Simon! Done! The hunters on the _Hound_ are no more and she is back in the known solar systems. But she does not _have_ to stay where she is just a thing! Where she is a memory of the girl you lost! She wishes to be herself. River!" And just like that, all the anger drained from her and she stepped forward to take her brother's hands in hers. Riddick stiffened, mostly out of principle. River ran a hand over the animal's head and laid her fingers on the man's arm in his mind, and he settled again. She was ignoring him in the physical though, as she pleaded with her brother. "Please Simon. Do not wish to hurt. But she will. Attempt wrap her in chains of love and cotton and needles again and she will hurt you. You were-" she shook her head, and he could smell tears on the air. "You were doing well before she was caught. Almost didn't think of needles and drugs every time the girl said something odd."

The man sighed. "River I-" he trailed off, and then reclaimed his hands to set one on either side of her face. "I'll always worry River. I'm your brother after all. I just…I worry about what you went through. I'm still afraid-"

"We're all afraid of something."

"Will you let me finish?" Riddick bit back a growl and managed to keep his arms at his sides and his hands loose instead of reaching for River. As far as he was concerned this was still up in the air, and he wasn't about to draw extra attention to himself when they still might need to fight their way out. He did however, stretch his way towards River's mind, and found it a roil of hope, worry, bone deep fear, and something else. Something she was keeping walled off, even though he could feel her turn it over and over as if looking for a flaw. Something wrong radiated from that wall. Something very wrong. He breathed carefully, but all he found was apples and rain, very little lemon, and the mint of anticipation. Except for the lemon, none of that was anything that usually told him she was about to go off the deep end.

The Doc had continued, oblivious. "You're a wreck River. Bruises everywhere, cuts. I don't know what you did to your feet."

"Danced them bloody on bad footing."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course you did. And you've been out now for two and half days, for no reason I can tell."

Her heart stopped. Riddick smelled charcoal so strong he was amazed the others couldn't tell it was there. The churning in River's mind stilled and for once nothing moved on her side of the bond. "What?" Her voice was a shriek, and he knew that she was digging through her brother's head, and probably those of the rest of the crew as well. "No!"

And then she was gone. Pushing her brother aside, squirming between the other members of her crew, and pounding off to who knew where. Riddick was after her before he even processed the fact that she was gone, the animal digging claws into his head and roaring while the man took note of the guns coming out of their holsters. He followed her scent out into the darkened room beyond the closet they'd had him chained in, down an echoing metal hallway, up a set of stairs, and onward into a dimly lit bridge.

He had a moment to realize it was much bigger than the one in the _Hound_ before he saw the starboard chair spin around and slim arms reach out from its sides to start flipping toggles and bringing up displays. ::River,:: he roared in her mind. She ignored him. He could hear the pounding feet as the rest of the crew rushed to catch up and could smell their fear and worry. But the threat they represented and the guns they carried weren't what was important at the moment. He tried again. ::What the fuck River?::

Still nothing.

Snarling and angry with her for not sharing and for ignoring him and for ruining her chance to prove to these people that she was functional, he grabbed the chair, turned it back around, and yanked her out by the shoulders. He heard guns cocking and the distinctive ratchet of the sawed off, but there wasn't time for that now. "What the fuck," he snarled in her face. Her eyes were glazed, charcoal and fire rising, and she was scrabbling both for the safety of the animal's tree and the walls in her own mind. He blocked her, the animal pinning the girl in the tree while the man got a chokehold on the weapon. "The hell is going on girl," he roared.

Someone had a gun barrel to his head again. He glanced over to see the Captain, bracketed by his first mate and the gun hand on either side. A knee in the gut pulled his attention back where it belonged. "She has a name," the girl hissed up at him.

"Too fucking long." Maybe if he went back to old taunts it would wake something in her, get her to open up.

She stilled, fingers still digging bloody half-moons into his skin and one foot braced on his hip like she was either going to kick him or try and push away, and her heart rate abruptly dropped. "Not as long as his," she replied hoarsely, and he almost hoped he'd gotten through. "Too many titles."

"Any one mind tell'n me what the gorram hell is going on here?"

Riddick ignored the Captain in favor of tilting his head at River. "What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong," he bit out. She'd stopped struggling in his mind too, but she shrank away from him, curling in a ball and ignoring the man and animal both as they sniffed and prodded. If he had to take a guess, he'd say she was afraid and…ashamed?

"She is! They have lost the girl! Triggered, called to home, but where is home?" She wasn't digging furrows in his skin anymore, and her hands wandered restlessly over his arms as her mind cried out in the voice of a lost child. Kyra's voice. Riddick froze, but she was still talking. The gun barrel had left his head; the animal only noted it in passing. "Where is home," she repeated in a whisper. "Is it with the animal? Or the crew? Or nowhere at all!" She was gasping, chest heaving as if she'd run for miles. "Then someone wanted to take home from her and she wouldn't let them. Fought." Salt tears were ticking down her cheeks, and she wouldn't meet his eyes either in the physical or in his mind. She'd wedged herself under the arch of one of the roots, and scrambled back till it would take a great deal of brute force for either man or animal to drag her out of her hiding place. At least she was still in his mind.

He set her down carefully, so her feet were touching the floor again, but kept a firm grip on her shoulders. The witch-hazel wasn't strong yet, but it was starting to make itself known. He pushed as much calm as he could towards her through their bond, pulled the man and the animal back to give her a little space, and had the satisfaction of seeing it have an effect in the physical as well. Her breathing evened out, and her heart slowed slightly. Dark eyes met his, and he became aware of the pain of the lights. Funny, the things he could ignore when he needed to.

"You two have someone else along," that was the Captain, voice wary as he stepped up next to them.

Riddick blinked and stared at him as the first part of River's rant caught up with his brain. What was it about this girl that made him feel so stupid and got him to overlook things like that? He shook her gently to get her attention, and then leaned down to look her more directly in the eye. "Plain English girl. What are you doing?" She gave him the _look_, and he snarled and shook her again, taking all the anger and frustration he felt at her lack of trust in him or his reaction to the news and ramming them over into her mind. The gun barrel found his temple again and the hammer pulled back, but luckily none of her crew was stupid enough to try and take her from him. Yet. "No," he growled. "Two and half days. They've found her by now. We _can't_ go back. You want to get taken again?" His voice had been steadily rising, and he ended the protest in a shout.

There was a yell of protest over by the door that sounded like the Doc, and a scuffle as the other two crew members tried to hold the man back. Steel and witch-hazel were coming off of River in waves now, and her frustration built in his mind. "Have to! Have to get her back! Can't let them have her!"

"No!" He was roaring before he knew it, and the animal was pushing its own brand of panic at him. "We go back there, we're all dead! She doesn't matter anymore!" It was truth. And a lie. And the girl in front of him knew it. She was fighting him again, clawing and twisting to get out of his grip and back to the pilot's chair. He snarled and let go of her shoulders to get those hands under control. He had a moment to regret telling her he didn't mind longer nails before the butt of a gun connected with head and the world spun. He snarled and let go of her to swing at the Captain, catching him in the jaw with his fist as River lunged past him for the others near the door.

Riddick reached for his blades and realized they'd all been taken. All right then. Dropping low to avoid the punch the big gun hand flung at his head, he came up inside the man's guard and placed an elbow under the man's sternum. He fell back, gasping, and Riddick followed it up with a well-placed fist to his attacker's head, snapping it around so hard that the rest of his body followed suit. Looking up, he saw that River had downed the dark skinned woman and the Doc was groaning against the wall. The captain was trying to regain his feet and the Furyan placed a boot in his stomach as he stepped over him and lunged for River, who'd gotten back in the pilot's chair. ::Listen to me,:: he shouted in her head as the animal managed to get in under the tree with her. ::You're what matters now!::

"Words," she hissed at him over her shoulder, and he growled back as he hauled her out of the chair again and dragged her up to eye level. "You," he barked as he shook her. "You are what matters. Nothing is worth going back to get her. Not my life, not _yours_" Fear was coursing through him, the sort of fear he'd felt as the raptors cornered him in the mining settlement. She wanted to walk right back into monster's cave, clip on the flimsy harness of her family's love and head back to the planet that had already ambushed them once already. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was too late to get Kyra without getting caught. And if she tried, if he let her…his mind froze at the implications. Forcing his lungs to work, shoving everything he'd just thought in her direction, he managed to get the words out through clenched teeth. "Nothing is worth losing you, you fucking read me girl?"

She stopped fighting, and in his head he could feel her trying to bury herself in the animal's fur as the full meaning of his words made itself known to her. The weapon half of the girl circled the man warily, still focused on the fact that they'd lost Kyra and wanting to get back and make it right. Ozone, lemons, charcoal and fire wound their way up his nose. "Can't let them have her though. The things they could do with her…" her voice cracked, and he could still hear the shame and tears in it.

He frowned. The captain had managed to pull himself to his feet, the gun hand was out for the count, and the woman was just coming back to consciousness. He placed them by heartbeat and breath and then ignored them as he brought all his focus to bear on the girl in front of him. The wrongness was still radiating from her mind, and the calculations were covered in spikes that bit at him when he tried to figure them out. "Why not," he growled, for lack of anything that could talk her out of this insanity. She flinched, and glared up at him. He glared back, unapologetic. If she wasn't going to explain herself, then he'd have to work with what his own mind came up with.

"Blue Sun," she whispered finally. "Wanted the river back, wanted to dam and control it. What does it say, what does it tell you. Give us your secrets!" Her head rolled loosely on her neck, and she looked towards her crew members before coming back to him. Her eyes were glassy again, and there was something in them that brought to mind the looks of some of the more brainwashed Necromongers. "But with the girl, the Reaver among Painwalkers, they could have an army. Get the secret of conversion. Mix it with the Pax," she reached up to lay both hands on his face, skin cold where it touched his. "Cannot let it happen."

"Reavers," that was the Captain, and the first trace of true unreasoning fear he'd gotten off the man burned its way up Riddick's nose. He glanced over. The man's skin was pale, hand on the gun tightening as his eyes glanced around as if there were actually Reavers here. Now.

"Where," the Doc was on his feet, reaching for one of the guns, and looking thoroughly panicked.

River shook her head, gaze still fixed on his. "Not here. Not now. But they will make more. Guide the process. Take the rage, the grief. The violence of Reavers." Her gaze was boring into his now. "And add the control of the Painwalkers. Cover one pain with another," her thumbs stroked the skin next to his eyes as she shifted inside his mind and some of the wrongness went away. "Don't understand. None of you. No one understands the terror of the other's nightmares. Think their own are bad enough"

The Captain groaned and rubbed at his head. "Care to explain then 'Tross? Cause none of it makes a lick of sense."

River snorted, and Riddick raised an eyebrow at her as he pushed the same question at her through their bond. She winced. ::Has never asked why she calls them Painwalkers.::

::Seemed pretty obvious::

"They screamed," she whispered as he set her down and she dropped her hands to clench them at her sides. "In their heads. Of what they used to be. For _who_ they used to be. They caved, they bent the knee. Took the pain and the needles," she shuddered and lemons rose off her in waves, "and the serum and the basic genetic makeup was made different. No more pain, not in the physical. But in the mental…" She was staring at him through glassy eyes that weren't focused anywhere on her physical surroundings. Her mind was full of knives, and he could feel her cling to the animal's tree as she started to drift with the river. The man latched on to the weapon girl, planted his feet, and pulled against the current. They flew free with a snap, and River rocked on her feet as she stared up at him. "He doesn't understand Reavers. Mad men. Lunatics. But they die like other men. He's killed them by the score. Doesn't know why everyone fears them so." Without warning she shook her shoulders free of his grip, loose as it was, clapped her hands over his head, and _shoved_ with her mind.

Images, scents, emotions, even sounds washed over him. A planet of harsh light and cities full of dead that looked as if they'd just lie down and died. Settlements emptied, burned. Bodies were eaten even as they were raped. People screaming as one attacker chewed and another cut and stitched the still bleeding skin to a vest of rotting patchwork. Townsfolk running, mothers strangling children as the animal cries drew closer. A man shot himself in the head; another was taken down as he made sure the little girl in his arms would never move again.

And then the scenes morphed. There was still the screaming fear, but the violence was controlled. Aimed. Armies stood and fell before the onslaught, as men full of suppressed pain and enough rage to account for nations rolled over the tops of their enemies. They were more coordinated, and they _planned_. Not just raids. Not just the kill and the eat and the revenge on anything with a heartbeat. There was that too, but over it all was the veneer he'd seen in the Necros. The dedication. The absolute willingness to die in droves just so one man could set up a miniature Icon and turn every single body for several meters around, including his own, into so much red paste.

He saw them attack, reform the troops, and offer conversion to any who didn't wish the same fate as the bodies around them. He saw them sharpening blades and choosing from the crowds like they were choosing food at a stall. And they were. Those who wouldn't convert didn't just die. They were consumed. Down to the bone. Or they were hung as a warning to all who came after, obscene decorations nailed to the walls of buildings and tied to the ships the armies commanded.

He lost track at some point, of what was reality and what was bloody nightmare. The scents overwhelmed, the man couldn't process so much forced information, and neither could find fire at his core to keep the dark at bay and his sanity anchored to his body. Awash in blood and terror, he drifted, floated down the river, and fell over the falls to the rocks below.

**Author's Note:** So. I rated it Mature for a reason. And it's not just the lemons. That said, this was both a fun and horrible chapter to write. Fun, because I got to play with the crew, beat up Simon a bit (I really do love him, he's just such a boob sometimes), and see how River and Riddick would react around them. It was hard because there was so much to keep track of, and I wanted everyone to act naturally. I realize I spent a fair bit of time building up the whole "wrap her in chains of love" idea, but keep in mind that not only was that her wallowing in her fears (backed by the fact that they WERE thinking of having to keep her drugged), but it was also a beast to have to continue and to have Mal and Simon and Co. all trying to tie her down and pump her full of drugs took this story in a direction I didn't want it to go. This is after she's run away and come back after all, and had several years to prove herself mostly sane. I'm not going to go into much detail on those years. All that matters is that nobody is exactly as the show and the movie left them. They've grown. Changed a bit. But I do still want them true to their essence.

As always, Firefly/Serenity and Riddick's world aren't mine. I wish. But no. /sob

Shenandoah76209: Yeah. Riddick is not happy at having a light in his eyes. Whoo boy. Simon's gonna be a mess of bruises come morning. I'm glad the last chap worked for you. I wanted her to be tense, to feel something wrong, but not know what it was and just get more and more worried. It goes back to the whole "can feel the specifics much better than a general threat" thing, and the broadwave this time was just targeted enough to set off alarms, but not enough to tell her what was going to happen. That precog of hers makes things really tricky.

Elliesmeow: Yeah, it seemed right that Zoe would think of that. She's always been a bit more on top of things than Mal that way. And no, Riddick is a very angry bear here. But hey, they've got bigger worries now, right?

Guineverekay: Hahahahah! I figured that was you . Glad you liked the updates. Zoe's one of my favorite characters. But she's so steady that try as I might, I can't pull off anything from her POV. Yet. We'll see. Glad you liked the bet too! Their next one should be on the crew ending in a Fiery Death or living to fight another day…lol

Anonymous: WhooO! A new person. Glad you liked. I'm really trying to keep this original. There are plenty of good Riverick fics here, but I wanted something with a different twist. The first chapters do have a whole different tone to them, but as I look back, I can't see telling the same story and not having the transition. We are, after all, mainly following Riddick as he goes from uber-pissed and angry at the world to tying himself irrevocably into the life of a girl who makes logic puzzles look like child's play. I do have a very…conversational way of putting words together too, and have to go back and fix grammar and whatnot to make sure it makes sense. I don't always succeed. Hope you continue to enjoy! Hope you'll review more too!

Rachet: Well…we didn't get to see any Mal vs. Simon here. I was more interested in what would happen to the good Dr. if he shone a penlight in Riddick's eyes. Stay tuned for more of the Adventures of River and Riddick aboard _Serenity_!

Translations:

_Bizuie_: Shut up

_Shi mu ching er:__ T_o watch and listen attentively

_Dong ma: _Understand

_Kuh-ooh duh lao bao jurn_: Horrible old tyrant...

_Hwoon dah: _Bastard

_ni zi_: little girl

_ge ge_: brother

_mei mei_: sister

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	19. Chapter 19

Ch. 19

_Hey white liar _

_The truth comes out a little at a time _

_And it spreads just like a fire _

_Slips off of your tongue like turpentine _

_And I don't know why _

_White liar _

"White Liar," Miranda Lambert

He came back to himself to the sight of River's legs on either side of his chest, and he was so shaken by what he'd seen that he couldn't even truly appreciate the view she was giving him. Death was not new to him. He'd killed enough people and seen enough blood and gore in his life that he wasn't bothered so much by the ways the people in the visions had died. No, what he couldn't get out of his head was the tidal wave of fear and terror that the hybrid army had pushed up in front of them. Like the Necromongers had in his home systems, only a thousand times worse. He'd never feared the Necros. They died like any other man. He still couldn't bring himself to fear the Reavers, though he could understand why people who didn't live in blood and death on daily basis would find them paralyzing. What had sunk into him with the bone deep instincts of his animal were the implications of the merger; the idea of combination of the two sweeping across the planets here and going in search of his, and then any further on. The ships here were faster, and the trip that had taken him something over a year and half once he'd left Helion would be far shorter for them.

There was reason he'd sent the Necros in the opposite direction from the one he'd decided to run in. He was no one's savior, and he really couldn't give fuck about the thousands of people who'd already died in their march across space. He could see in his mind's eye the face of Imam's little girl, of his wife. Of the child running around this very ship. He had to draw a line somewhere, and this was it. Once they were grown they could kill or be killed or just plain get mown over as their natures dictated. But to leave them to that sort of fate unable to defend themselves or get away was something he just couldn't stomach. Never had been able to.

It was what had kept him from leaving Jack in the shipping container in the first place, from outing her right away. It had driven him to chance Johns shooting him to circle around and try and think of another way through the canyon. Almost every step he'd taken on that planet, once they'd started the hike through darkness, had been hounded by the knowledge that Jack was all hot air and didn't have a fucking clue how to truly defend herself. Right up to the point where he'd called the whole effort off as useless and decided that if one person was going to make it off the fucking rock, it'd be him. He'd been too far gone in disgust and anger to really care at that point. That he'd cared at all in the first place was mildly surprising now that he thought about it.

River was shouting, but his ears were still ringing and he couldn't make out all the words. There was a cold burning that told him he'd cut his head open somehow, and his legs didn't want to move quite right. In his mind, she was trying to shake the man awake, while the animal paced nervously behind her. He groaned, and the shouting and yelling subsided somewhat. River twisted to look down at him, and he blinked up at her and tried to read her lips as she tried to say something with mind and voice. But his animal instincts required the man and the intellect he represented in order to manage any sort of higher thought process. Apparently lip reading landed in the same category as coherent languages in general.

::Riddick!:: Her voice rang through his head, snapping him out of the daze he'd drifted into, and he snarled reflexively as he clutched at his ears. Cool water dripped from her to him, both through his nose and in his mind, and he gasped, trying to get a handle on his body so it wouldn't reach out and sweep her legs from under her. She was kneeling over him now, eyes worried, hands gentle, and something told him to just focus on breathing. On his. On hers. The animal's pacing slowed as he felt their heartbeats match, and could feel it as she reached deep within herself for the wellspring that lay at her center and opened the floodgates. The man came sputtering awake, and Riddick felt his hands unclench. He realized then than he'd been gripping her fingers so tightly that they were white. She shook them out a bit before reaching for his head and pulling down the goggles he'd forgotten were there. He decided to take it as a measure of how far gone the man had been that he'd missed something so important. The girl's face cracked slightly as she tried to smile at him. :: So sorry,:: she whispered, and even that scratched at his over sensitized internal hearing. ::Didn't mean to…:: She shrugged, and looked back to where her crew was arguing amongst themselves as she helped him sit up. ::Had to make you understand how badly we need Kyra back.::

::Oh I get it,:: he managed to reply as she took both of his hands in hers and set her weight against his. ::Doesn't change facts. Can't go back there.::

Her face fell, but she nodded miserably. ::Will have to find another way. But first,:: she looked back at her family. The gun hand was still out cold, the Captain was standing in the way of a very fancy lady who smelled of incense and worry and anger and trying to reason with her as she tried to push past him. The first mate was holding herself up against the wall, and had never holstered her sawed off, although she looked as if she didn't know who to point it at; him for being unknown and threatening, or the girl for being a known powder keg. He didn't blame her. It was the Doc he couldn't pin at first, until the smell of antiseptics and movement behind the fancy woman told him he was behind her. Riddick nearly snarled at the cowardice, till he realized that she was being bandaged up while she argued with the Captain.

::Your doing,:: he asked River as she followed his gaze.

She shrugged and gave a final heave to pull him to his feet. "They shouldn't have locked her up if they didn't want injuries."

All eyes snapped back to them, and Riddick groaned. "Starting to think you go begging for trouble girl."

"Has a name," she muttered as she ducked under his arm and tried to take some of his weight onto herself. He didn't let her have much. He knew he'd just flatten her.

"Too fucking long," he grumbled back, and she flashed him a grin. Apples and rain, old blood and cool water were all he was catching from her now. The wrongness in her mind was mostly gone, even the weapon girl was back to wherever she hid herself when circumstance didn't call her out. The animal was climbing back into its tree, the man dusting himself off and trying to get himself back online. The girl sat cross-legged by a stream that had appeared somehow, and was humming a song he didn't know

"She could say the same of yours," she whispered just as the Captain left the woman in the door to the Doctor's care and stalked over to them. Riddick growled when the man stabbed a finger in River's face, and the cold steel in the man's eyes and scent didn't speak well of whatever was about to happen.

"You done pitchin' a fit 'Tross? Or got a bit more running and scream'n left in ya," the man's voice was quiet, but there was a promising edge of humor in the anger. Hard eyes glances up towards Riddick's face before coming back to meet those of the Reader.

River snorted. "For now. Unless you refuse to listen again," and she looked over her Captain's shoulder at her brother in the door. "And so long as _ge ge_ promises to treat her as River and not a doll."

The Doc jerked his head up and gave his sister a glare that Riddick could almost approve of. "I promise River. But next time, don't shriek and knock people out. There are only so many times a person can get hit in the head before I run out of ways to fix them."

River snorted, Riddick chuckled, and the fancy lady rolled her eyes. "I would have let you out _mei mei_," her voice was cultured, but warm. "If you would have just waited a moment."

The Captain jerked around at that, but it was Zoe who spoke next. "She never does anything without meaning Sir, you know that." A wry look twitched at the edges of full lips. "Although I agree, less screaming and hitting next time please."

Riddick snarled as his animal dropped out of the tree to curl around the girl on the stream bank. "The fuck you say. She's been tying herself in knots, scared stiff you all were going to dope her up and wrap her in chains, and you didn't expect this?" He looked down at River, who was giving off the scent of silk so strong that he could have cut it in the air. "You never told me your crew was a pile of fucking idiots. Sure you want to stay with them?"

"Hey now-"

"Excuse me!"

"Who the hell are you to be-"

River doubled over, giggles ringing through his head and ears, and Riddick had to catch himself against the console as he realized she'd been giving him more support than he thought. He glared at her, then at the crew as they worked through various stages of shock and anger. Finally the Captain managed to put some words together, and glared up at the big ex-convict as he growled, "And how would you know anything about that?"

Riddick raised an eyebrow, and waited for the Captain to think on what he'd just said as River leaned her head against his side and slid down into a crouch. Carefully he poked at her mind, worried she was going off another deep end, even though he couldn't smell charcoal or fire or any hint of witch-hazel. She flapped a hand at him, but didn't complain when the animal nosed her over to check for damage. A rush of embarrassed anger from the man in front of them told Riddick that the dots had been connected. It was throttled down, and the eyes were hard as the Captain looked from the giggling Reader clinging to the leg of a big man to the face of the man himself.

"Right," the man muttered. "River?" He was crouching down now to look her in the eyes. Or try to. She still had her face buried in her hands as she shook and quivered. "Feel like explain'n anything? Or you just gonna sit there and laugh till the cows come home?"

She choked, Riddick made an awkward grab for her shoulder as she threatened to topple over completely, and the Captain reached a hand out to steady her as a fresh wave of giggles poured out of her. Riddick lifted his lip in a snarl, but he was having enough trouble standing as it was. A soft hand ruffled the ears of his animal in reassurance, and River took two gasping breathes and coughed before sobering completely. "Only if the Captain is willing to listen and believe. And someone must wake Jayne. He needs to grumble and growl and glare like an angry bear." She flashed a grin up at Riddick. ::She thinks eventually you may get along.::

Riddick snorted, hooked a hand under her arm, and helped her to her feet. ::Optimist::

::No. Both snarl and snap. Deal in blood and pain.:: She paused to glance over the heap that was the man named Jayne, then back to her Captain. ::Although he doesn't get to kill as often. Captain has rules about unnecessary killing.::

The Captain was eyeing the pair, and Riddick could smell wariness and dread seeping out the man's pores. Over by the door, the fancy woman was done being bandaged, and River's brother was crouched over Jayne as the first mate looked on. There was something about the Doc's face that made him think he wasn't going to mind waking Jayne up, and the thought was confirmed when he pulled a bottle from one pocket, uncapped it, and waved it under the gun hand's nose.

Jayne came up, snorting and waving his hands. "Gorramit all to hell! What is that?"

River started giggling in his head and gave him a picture of a dainty lady wrapped in miles of restricting cloth falling over in a faint as the Doc answered "Smelling salts." He was grinning, and the rest of the crew was shaking their heads.

Riddick looked down at River. "Never. You hear me girl?" He could smell it from here, now that the air had brought the stench over. It was awful. Vinegar and eggs, rotten flowers and decaying flesh. "I'm ever out, you do anything but that." He couldn't help it, his nose was wrinkling. The thought of waking up to that, right under his nose, was enough to make him wish for the Necromonger's Underverse instead. The animal snorted and scrubbed at its face with its paws as the man went and got sick behind the tree. The girl at the stream laughed at them both and sent an array of images of other ways she could wake him up if need be. ::Not helping,:: he managed to scrape together enough coherent though out of the rush of anticipation before the crew got themselves to their collective feet. She just raised an eyebrow and gave him his own smirk in return.

Jayne was still growling about the smell and crazy little girls and big _hwoon dahns_ that felt the need to punch anything that moved. The Captain had thumbed an intercom and called for Kaylee to get to the galley, which occasioned an eye roll from his first mate as they heard joyful squealing ring through the ship; followed closely by a small body pushing past the woman at the door and launching itself at River. The girl stumbled back slightly as the child scrambled her way up River's legs and managed to perch herself on the Reader's hip.

Riddick grunted and braced her with a hand at her back as River laughed and spread her arms wide, forcing the child to cling or drop. ::Guess I'm on my own then.::

::The Riddick is big and strong. But if he wishes, she will see if the smelling salts can help.:: River never looked at him, attention fixed on the little girl babbling happily away. He could smell the silk of her joy, so scarce until now, and only gave her a token snarl in her head before reaching for the pilot's seat as his next solid point of contact. It was a mistake, and the chair swiveled out from under his hand just as he put his full weight on it. River lunged for him, but the child on her hip had gotten ahold of one arm and his girl just wasn't going to make it before he cracked his skull open again.

And then someone was catching him, someone much taller than River, and he found his arm over the shoulder of the dark skinned first mate. He blinked, and her lips twisted wryly as the rest of the crew stopped to see what would happen. He nearly growled. Was everything some sort of entertainment to them? Over the first mate's shoulder, River smiled and rolled her eyes and that was enough of an answer for him.

The woman next to him smelled of leather, sorrow, gun oil and brown sugar. Worry radiated off of her like a small sun, and the fear that had been in her scent earlier was faint. So faint, that he realized there must never have been much of it in the first place. He gave her another look as she got him going in the direction of the door, and then a glance back to River where she took up the rear of the little train of people. When he looked back to the woman, she was meeting his eyes through the goggles. "River likes you. Never found a bad apple with her picking," she said in answer to his unspoken question, and that was that.

They made it down the stairs and back into the room at the end of the hall. Now that he wasn't chasing anyone through it, he could see that it was the galley. The lights were on, and the crew was rearranging chairs around the long wooden table. He grunted as the first mate helped him lower himself into one and relaxed a little as apples and rain, silk and mint drifted up around him. The old blood was an itch in his mind, and the animal snorted as it examined it. River patted his shoulder as she walked past him to hand the little girl on her hip over to the mechanic, then pulled a chair over and sat down next to him, so close their legs touched. The animal purred in its tree and he laid the arm not leaning on the table over the back of her seat. He caught the looks the crew gave each other, and a variety of new scents came his way as breathing changed all around. He snorted to himself. Let them look. Let them wonder. He wasn't going to hide his claim.

Cool fingers reached up to lace themselves with the hand over her shoulder, and a fresh wave of her scent washed over him as she leaned her head against his arm. ::And nor will she hide hers.:: Pulling her mind away from his, she leveled a look at her Captain. "Ask."

He exploded. "What the rutting hell happened?!"

Riddick laughed. It wasn't his wisest move ever, all things considered, but the look on the man's face was too much. Indignation, shock, anger, and worry were all mixed together, and he knew exactly how it felt. When the man turned those hard eyes on him, Riddick just laughed harder. An elbow in the side courtesy River made him stop laughing long enough to growl at her. "What," he snapped, and ignored the hands that reached for weapons all around the table.

"Be nice," she glared up at him, although humor bubbled through her mind.

He snorted. "What made you think I was nice," he muttered, before looking back up at the Captain. "Been asking myself the same question, this past month or so. Was the girl born this irritating, or did that come with the cutting on her?"

The Captain stiffened, but it was the Doc who answered. "She was born irritating and smug. The…" he waved his hand vaguely, sending a draft of resignation and anger their way as he scowled across the table. "That just made it harder to put up with." He crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders. "There's no denying it River. You love confusing people."

"Be that as it may," the Captain cut in before River could reply. "Still need answers. River," he turned to look at the girl. "Serious now. What happened?"

River sat for a moment, running fingers through the fur of the animal as it lay beside her on the stream bank. Riddick watched her with eyes and nose and ears as the man crouched down next to her and started sharpening a shiv with a nearby stone. Finally, just as the little girl behind them was starting to get restless, she spoke. "Names first," and she glared at the Captain. "Bad manners."

The woman who smelled of incense and perfume over leather and silk laughed behind her hand as the Captain's face twisted. Riddick raised an eyebrow at the woman, and then looked at the rest of the crew. Their faces showed various degrees of amusement over the watchfulness they hadn't let drop yet. Even the first mate, who looked like she never smiled at all, had a smile tugging at the sides of her mouth. Twisting back to look down at River, he pushed a question at her through their bond.

She never took her eyes off the Captain as she answered. "Wanted high ground. Wanted to put him on defense." The Captain's scent was giving off embarrassment and anger and his mouth pulled into a wry smile. "They laugh because he's gotten out of the habit of guarding his thoughts."

"Right, well…" The Captain hooked his thumbs into his belt in a gesture of forced calm. "You caught me. Care to do the honors?"

River unlaced her fingers from Riddick's and stood, moving up next to the other man like a cat hunting prey. The animal inside perked its ears, and Riddick himself sat forward. The Captain watched the Reader warily, but he wasn't going for a weapon. River paced once around her Captain while the rest of the room held its collective breath. Finally, after leaning up and staring into his face for a long moment, she grinned and turned back to the watchers. "Captain Daddy. Malcom Reynolds. Owns _Serenity_, finds work. Gets shot more often than is good for him."

"Hey now, gett'n shot's good for no one!"

But she was gone, off to rest her head on the shoulder of the dark skinned woman. The lady wrapped an arm around River and gave a one armed hug before going back to being serious and dangerous.

"Zoe Washburne. First mate. Mother to Sierra. Does her best to keep the Captain alive." River grinned as the rest chuckled.

The gun hand twitched as she came near, and his face was a mix of fear and resignation. Riddick caught anger in his scent as well, and stiffened as the girl stared hard at the other man. Finally he stood, knocking his chair backwards in the process. "Gorramit girl, ya know that's creepify'n. Stop digging in my head."

River grinned and flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around the man's chest and squeezing. Riddick growled and started to lean forward. ::What the fuck?::

::Shhhh. Unpredictability is a fine weapon.:: River let go of the tall man, who was sputtering and yelping and checking for all his weapons. "Jayne Cobb. Merc, gun hand," she shrugged. "Charged with keeping the ship safe. Recently in acquisition of a new guitar." She reached up and poked the man in the chest as his scent turned about four variations of embarrassed.

Riddick bit back a chuckle. ::Never a dull moment. You mind fuck your crew like this all the time?::

::Not so much,:: her voice was faint, more of her attention on the next person at the table than on him. ::Special occasion.:: She stopped in front of the man as he stood, face and scent full of worry and heart beating far faster than anyone else's in the room.

They stared at each other a moment before he opened his arms, very carefully, and asked. "No hug for me?"

River tilted her head to one side. "Are you hiding needles for her anywhere on your person?"

There was a collective mutter from the crew, and the man sighed as his face fell. "River…"

She shook her head and stepped into his arms. "Missed you _ge ge_. But must remember his promise." The man sighed, wrapped his arms around his sister, and squeezed. Riddick frowned as he watched. He couldn't smell deception on this man, but then again, it was sometimes hard to tell when River was about to flip a switch on him in the first place. Finally, River stepped back and grinned over at him. "Simon. Frye, Tamm, all depends on the day. Trauma surgeon. Ship's doctor. Would rather not have to stitch up so many wounds, but it keeps him in practice. Husband to Kaylee." She frowned and looked back at her brother. "He should be less worried about the cuts and bruises. They are healing."

Simon opened his mouth, took another look at his sister, and snapped it shut again. She grinned as the rest laughed, and moved on to the woman at the foot of the table. She was a puzzle, Riddick thought. Incense and perfume and silk he could see, but the gun oil and leather was somewhat unexpected. She held herself with a certain sort of grace, and even the bandage on her forehead wasn't doing much against the beauty she would probably have even in rags and covered in dirt.

::Carefull," River murmured. ::The girl might get jealous.:: But she was smiling, in his head and up at the woman, and there were no hesitations here. The hug she gave the woman was brief, but heartfelt, and he could smell the apples and rain and silk even over all the rest of the people in the room. The woman traced River's face with a finger and pushed a bit of hair back before glancing over at Riddick with speculation in her eyes. He raised an eyebrow and sat back, wondering what the look was for, but River wasn't sharing and none of the crew seemed to think it out of the ordinary.

"Inara Sera," River said as she looked over at him with something like mischief in her eyes. "Companion _liè tóu rén_, Captain's wife." She grinned up at the woman. "Very good shot, especially with a bow." The lady laughed and gave River a kiss on the forehead before stepping out of the way so she could move on.

The next woman smelled of hope and no little fear, but she jumped up and nearly tackled River before the girl had made it two steps. "Oh River," she gasped. "So glad your home! The Captain can't land 'er gently to save all our lives, and the pert line is gonna go unless someone talks him into stopping for repairs, and everyone's been so _angry_! Oh_Juh jen sh guh kwai luh duh jean ja_!" The woman kept babbling and the child she was holding laughed and clambered out of her arms to perch on River's shoulders. Shaking her head, Zoe left her place and went to pull her off, while the Captain yelped and protested the assessment of his flying skills. Riddick shook his head and kept his smile to himself, but a part of him shuddered. All that cheer was almost too much to handle and he hoped the mechanic would keep away from him with it. He'd never met someone so bright without a great many secrets hidden behind the smile, and he didn't need to know this one's.

::Wrong,:: River's laughter bubbled in his head. ::She is honest. Honest in fear and honest in joy. Riddick has simply never been around enough people who have reasons to be truly happy.:: Out loud, she laughed and returned the hug before stepping back and facing him. "This is Kaylee. Mechanic, engineer. Talks to _Serenity_ and the ship talks back. Wife to Simon." River grinned at the woman before reaching up and taking the hand of the little girl Zoe was still holding. "And Sierra. Zoe's daughter. Trouble from day one." The little girl stuck out her tongue and made a face at that and River laughed. "But the good kind."

She ruffled the girl's hair and grinned at her before coming back to stand near him. Apples and rain, menstrual blood, silk and the mint of anticipation filled the air around him. Her heart and breath were even, and her presence in his mind was as steady as it had ever been. Amazingly, something about her seemed to be giving him calm, an ability to stay seating in a room full of mostly unknown quantities and not wonder which would stab him in the back. It helped that most of them were in front of him, and he could tell who didn't know anything about weapons, but the feeling was odd. He wasn't sure if he was comfortable with it, but neither was he really uncomfortable either.

But then she was right behind him, and he could feel the heat of her body as she rested her hands on his shoulders. She was grinning at him in her mind, and he realized she was waiting for him to speak. He snorted, relaxed a little more into his seat, and smirked at the expectant and wary looks on the crew's faces. ::Ready for the yelling girl?::

She swatted him over the head and he turned to mock snarl at her. "Stop fishing for a reaction," she muttered, but she laughed in his mind. He gave her another growl, and his nostrils flared as he caught apprehension as it bloomed again in the room.

"Richard B. Riddick," he said finally. "Escaped convict, murderer. Former Lord Marshal." He made thought action and caught River's hand before she could pull away from where she stood behind him. "Match."

River laughed as the crew reacted, doubling over and bracing herself on his shoulders.

Oddly enough, at least in his eyes, it wasn't the first two descriptions they focused on. The Captain was frowning as he mouthed "Lord Marshal?" and Jayne was scratching his head, obviously trying to puzzle out what it meant. The Companion's eyes were a mix of worry and amusement, and Zoe was eyeing them both with something more than speculation in her gaze. He could smell the mechanic's joy, leavened with some appprehension as it overpowered the rest of her scents, and he fought the urge to sneeze it from his nose. What the fuck was wrong with these people that they didn't seem to care about the first half of the introduction?

::They are all wanted for one thing or another. All but Kaylee have taken life. And even she would be arrested if they were caught. Captain and Zoe were soldiers on the losers side.:: River had managed to stop laughing long enough to answer, and her arms slid around his neck as she gasped for breath. ::Jayne never makes friends. His trail of dead is smaller than yours though, tends to only kill when money's on the line. _Ge ge_," she shrugged, straightened back up, and slipped back into her chair next to him. ::Blue Sun wants him dead for having freed his sister.::

::And the Companion,:: Riddick asked, eyeing the woman as she shook her head at the Captain. Voices were flying around them, but none of them were an active threat at the moment, so he kept his focus where it was.

::Knew the Captain and what he did long before she made her choice.::

"Match."

Riddick's head jerked around. Simon was looking at them, eyes hard and questioning. He couldn't pick out his scent from the confusion around them, but he could take a guess. The brother may have promised to listen to his sister when she claimed sanity, but he was already making up his mind not to like the Furyan. Fine then, he wasn't so fond of the moneyed Doctor either.

::Not rich. Not anymore. Retains the habits though,:: River sighed in his head and looked up at him. "Start at the beginning?"

Riddick snorted and the rest of the crew stopped talking to look at them. Sierra wormed her way out of her mother's grasp and clambered into River's lap to stare at him, and the two sets of dark eyes were so intent that he found himself a little unnerved. "Not really a story for kids, yours or mine," he tried, just to see if he could get rid of one of those pairs of eyes. Zoe slipped around the table and met his gaze through the goggles, then picked up her daughter and set her on one hip. There was something there, something he couldn't place in her expression, and he prodded at River's mind to try and get her to let him see what she was getting from the first mate.

She ignored him, even though she was grinning at him. "Made of soft caramel, you are," she muttered, and laughed as he gave her a hard poke in the shoulder for that comment. Bodies stiffened around the table, but they all waited to see what would happen before going for any weapons.

Zoe was leaving the room, muttering something about fresh sheets and picking up rooms as she went, and he watched her for another moment before turning back to the Captain. The man stared at him, holster unclipped, but his arms were crossed over his chest while he eyed the pair in front of him. Finally, when the silence had gone on just a bit too long, River sighed and leaned forward. "Long story Captain Daddy. Will have to be patient." She looked around at the rest of the crew. "Will have to hold their questions till she is done." And without any further lead in, she started.

She began with her capture by the mercs hunting her, moved on to tell how she'd woken out of cryo and killed a couple before they put her down again, and worked her way through the rest of the tale from there. When she spoke on hearing the Reavers board the ship and take the crew before they left it to drift as bait for the next fool to come along, something in the Captain's face tightened; but he kept his mouth shut for the moment. She didn't bother telling them how Riddick's ship had come to be in that part of space. He had the feeling that he'd be the one stuck explaining that, and he gave her a mental glare for that little gift. She ignored him, both in the physical and the mental.

It didn't take as long as it had when she told him the story of how she'd come to live on _Serenity_ and get caught, and she left out a great many smaller details. Riddick didn't know how he felt about that. On one hand, they didn't need to know about her nearly braining him in the engine room or why she'd felt the need to try and kick him the face that day they'd gone through the ship. Nor did they need to know that he'd nearly killed her to get to the shower first, or that he'd sat in her bunk and gone through her sketches while she slept next to him. Or even the number of times she'd tried to kill him in return. On the other hand, she glossed over the night she'd had the panic attack in the galley, the confrontation in Saddler's hole, and even the conversation with Badger. Several times one of the crew opened their mouth to ask a question, or try to interrupt, and she glared them to silence before continuing.

Finally, she reached the part where he'd found her crying in the cargo bay and fumbled to a stop. He watched her carefully, wondering what she'd say, how she'd explain everything that had happened. He himself was still working out the meaning of half of it. Burnt sugar rose in the air, along with vanilla and a hint of wet earth. She met his eyes through the goggles and the crew around the table shifted uneasily in their chairs. Strangely enough, Zoe returned to the room, though he could hear her footsteps echoing faintly through the halls. Probably didn't trust her daughter not to come back and get an earful of slaughter and who knew what else. He didn't blame her.

It was Inara who broke the silence as she sat forward and stretched her open hands out in front of her. "River?" Her voice was soft, understanding. "It's ok you know."

River took a deep breath, laced her fingers through his where they hung over her shoulder, and froze.

He laughed, earning himself a round of evil looks from those around the table, and grinned down at her. "Not so fearless now, are ya?"

She glared up at him, but her hands were buried in the fur around the shoulders of his animal, and it stuck its nose in her ear.

He looked back at the crew and shrugged. "She kept trying to make me leave. Take a chance at freedom where I wouldn't be hunted for a while. Knew I'd get a bounty on my head eventually. But at the time…," he shrugged. "Clean slate. Nearly took the chance. Could have left her with the Sasquatch, taken the ship, gotten clear." He glanced down, but River was watching her crew, avoiding his eyes as wet earth rose in the air. He gave her a mental caress, and the animal in him nudged her with its nose in an attempt to get her attention. ::Long past now River. We made our choices.:: She didn't respond right away, so he turned back to the story. "Didn't do it though." He shrugged, "Couldn't. Distracted the mercs, got her on board the _Hound,_ and laid in a course for Haven."

"Asked him why when she woke," River's voice was soft, and the crew had to lean forward to hear. She glanced up at him and back down at her lap, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "She is trouble. It follows her. Bar on Persephone should be proof enough." She shifted in her seat and in his mind, and Riddick snarled, forgetting about the crew for the moment as he reached to turn her free hand over.

"Look at this," he growled. "And get that shit out your head. Told you before; I'm as likely to get you killed as you are me." He leaned down and tipped her face up so she had to meet his eyes. "Don't fucking care what they do. Got me?"

"But he can be triggered now too," her eyes were huge and her voice cracking. "Two walking grenades instead of one."

Riddick leaned back as he mulled that over, ignoring the worried voices of the crew as they started asking questions. Finally, just as he started smelling the ozone of true despair creep into her scent, he shook his head. "Then we figure a way to pull the switch. No worries if they can't trigger you."

"Hey," A hand slapped down on the table, and Mal was leaning over them both. "Mind sharing with the rest a' us?"

Riddick lifted his lip and reached for a shiv that wasn't there, and River gifted her Captain with the now familiar _look_. The ex-convict found himself relieved that he wasn't the only one who got that from her. He waited a moment, just to see if the other man was going to push things any further, before starting the story again. "She has this thing about words," he paused as the Captain and his crew rolled their eyes or groaned as their natures dictated. "See you know. Wouldn't take what was in my head as explanation. Me, I wouldn't say it." He shrugged, refusing to say more on the topic and just about ready to be done with the story altogether.

River though, seemed to think they needed more.

"Very few come to know the Riddick well and live long afterwards. Wisest for the girl to not get close," she leveled a glare at her brother, and he snapped his mouth shut and settled for looking stubborn. "Words are stones after all, and she hadn't decided whether to come back to _Serenity_ or not yet. Was still too afraid of _go se_ needles and being thought crazy."

Riddick wondered if she realized that she was curling further and further into him, both with mind and body, as she ground out the last words between clenched teeth. He glared around at the crew as they shifted in their chairs and avoided looking at the Reader in their midst. "So they argued, and later she went to ask Kyra what she should do." Fingers were twitching in his, and he could smell her remembered despair. There were tears rising in her eyes, and she'd climbed the tree in his mind again to nestle herself against the animal.

"Found her there," he said, to spare her trying to speak. "Pissed as fuck, wandered out in the cargo bay and found her praying to a dead girl." They hadn't explained much about Kyra beyond the fact that he'd taken her under his wing and that she'd died for him, none of his past had been touched on in any depth. He knew that there were going to be a great many questions he wouldn't want to answer on that score. No way around answering them though, not if they wanted help getting her back. "Had to keep her from crying herself to death somehow. Gave her the words she wanted. Sealed them in blood." And he turned his arm up so he could show them, and then lifted River's as well. It had the expected effect.

"You what!?" The Doc was up, fists clenched at his sides and veins popping. The Captain and the gun hand had pushed themselves to their feet right behind him, hands going for weapons. In the chair behind River, the mechanic was giving off fear and fascination, while Inara looked shaken, but less angry than interested. "What gives you the right-" the man choked on his rage for a moment before finding his voice again. "That's barbaric!"

Simon was still sputtering when River stood and leaned past Riddick to hiss in his face. "I gave him the right. Me! River! He put a knife in my hand and gave me blood. So I did the same for him! _Tian xiz shou you de ren dou gai si_!" She slammed a fist down on the table and Riddick grunted when she braced a knee a little too close to his balls for comfort as she crawled over him. Steel and witch-hazel were pouring off her in waves; and the weapon was crouching at the base of his tree, hissing in a voice like blades rasping over each other. "_Tah mah duh hwoon dahn_! Simon, she is a woman grown. She had found someone who doesn't fear her! Who keeps up and sees her _as she is_!" The other fist came down, and she growled at her brother in a voice more in keeping with the animal's than anything Riddick had ever heard from her. "Learn to be happy for the girl Simon!"

Riddick reached into her mind with hands and soft paws and found her there, merging the river at her core with the waif and the weapon. Carefully as they could, man and animal set themselves among the three, while at the same time he reached up and tried to pull River back down into her seat. ::River,:: he whispered, but all her attention was focused on her brother.

The crew had stilled, holding their breaths as they waited for the response. Simon stared at his sister, and Riddick could almost feel the thoughts of anger and denial churning through the boy's mind as he fought with himself. Riddick ignored it as a symptom of being so far into River's head, and set himself to trying to keep her from merging into a whirlwind of death he knew she'd regret later.

He was doing a fair job of it too; and had even managed a wry twitch of the lips at the thought of being the one to try and keep someone from killing everything in sight instead of the other way around when one of the Doc's stray thoughts trickled from the river and into his animal.

He was up and moving before he knew what he was doing; dumping River to the floor as he reached for the pressed collar of the other man's shirt and hauled him across the table and over the near edge. "What the _fuck,_" he found himself roaring as the man landed on the deck and went sliding into the wall. He'd planted a boot in the man's gut and then to the side of his head before the Doctor could do more than gasp. He could hear people yelling and feet running, but the meaning of the words and the threat of the weapons being pulled was lost to him as red rage misted over his brain. "What the fuck do you think I am!?" He drove his foot into the Doctor's stomach again and wished he knew where his blades were. Fear enveloped him as the crews' bodies betrayed the hard lines of their faces and he snarled again in satisfaction as it seeped into him. This was what he was, and they'd better fucking know the monster they had in their midst before they went and earned their deaths as thoroughly as this fuck had.

And then River was there, weapon and girl clinging to the shoulders of the man-animal merge in his head. She grabbed the arm he was using to reach for the Doc, slid under and around, and planted a foot in the back of his knee. He lost his balance and started to go over backwards, feeling cool water and steel close over his head as she landed on his back and grabbed hold of his ears. He roared a protest, and tried to tear her off. But he his center of gravity was off, and she had her knees digging into his ribs and was shouting in his ear. He went down completely, and tried to land so she was pinned under him, but she scrambled free and placed herself between him and her brother as he came up. The Doc was still on the deck, groaning as he held his stomach, and Riddick could smell the beginnings of nausea as the man tried not to hurl his guts all over the floor. The big man snarled and started forward, intent on setting River aside and beating the shit out of the man who had _dared-_

A backhanded blow to the jaw and a heel planting itself in his diaphragm brought him up short, and the girl-weapon managed to get the animal separated from the man long enough to make him hear when she shrieked at him with mind and lips. "No! Stop Riddick!"

He picked her up by the shoulders and growled at her, and felt the cool metal of three gun barrels make their home at the base of his neck. River glared up at him, teeth bared and yelled again. "Enough you _shiong-muh duh duang-ren_! Listen!" And she squirmed out of his hands and slapped her smaller ones over his ears.

He yelled as the compressed air impacted his eardrums, but didn't make a move to fight her, sticking to shouting instead. "You fucking heard him girl." He looked over her shoulder at the man still trying to catch his breath and find his feet. The mechanic was helping him up, face full of worry and fear as she watched River with huge eyes. "He thought I'd _raped_ you!"

River winced, and steel and burnt sugar rose off her as the crew around them stilled. Behind her, the Doc coughed, spat out a wad of blood, and glared. "What-" he croaked, coughed again, and started over. "What was I supposed to think? They bring her home, cut to pieces and bruises everywhere, telling me she and the big _hwoon dahn_ they'd picked up were trying to kill each other in a bar." He limped a little closer, and River moved her hands from Riddick's ears to his chest as he leaned forward to growl at the man. The mechanic went pale, but stayed where she was, lending her support to her husband. "If I had the supplies, I would have done a rape kit on _any_ of the women on board if they'd come home looking like River did." The doc was trying to draw himself up to his full height, but it wasn't working very well. He settled for glaring instead, and Riddick matched him stare for stare.

"Riddick," River's voice was soft, and she and the weapon were keeping themselves very much between the man and animal in his head; while cool water washed over all four of them and drowned out the last lingering bits of blind rage. He looked down at her, and she traced a finger down his jaw. "She appreciates the sentiment, but _ge ge_ has a point." And she stepped back and lifted her arms so he could see her. They'd left her in the clothes she'd been wearing, pants and a shirt with three-quarter sleeves, but her feet were unshod, and the bandages still there. The cut down her arm was healing well, but it was long and had been deep enough that they should have probably stitched it. Bruises covered her neck and shoulders, some fresh, some fading to the paler shades of what he knew to be yellow and sickly green. He blinked. What he'd seen as marks given and matched in return, he saw now as the Doc must have. River smiled as she caught the thought and dropped her hands. "Can understand now?"

Behind the girl, the Doc was starting to look smug, and Riddick glowered at him as he settled back and the guns were lifted from his neck. Incense and perfume shifted in the air, and he looked over to see the Companion easing around his flank, tucking the short barreled pistol she'd been holding into the back of her belt. He raised an eyebrow and she smiled at him before looking over at the Doc. "The trouble is Simon, is that you were looking at her through the eyes of a brother. You saw bruises and evidence of battle and assumed the worst." She held up a hand as the Doc opened his mouth. "Granted, that was before they woke up and River proved she was anything but afraid of him, but how closely did you look at _either _of them?" The woman reached up and Riddick stared as she pulled at the collar of his shirt. "See that? Just as bad as River." She let go of Riddick and moved forward so she could draw River's hair away from her neck. "I know you know what a hickie looks like Simon. You and Kaylee walk around with plenty of them yourselves. These are just rather spectacularly huge." She frowned back at Riddick and River fed him reproach and resignation flavored with sandlewood. "With teeth marks around them."

The Doc was turning colors as embarrassment and anger rose in the air around him. His mouth flopped open and shut a couple times, and Riddick chuckled at the looks on the faces of the crew as they closed in around the pair to take a closer look. He didn't mind in the least; but River groaned in his head and stepped forward to press her face into his chest and that ended all amusement on his part. "Not a freak show people. Give her some space or I won't stop with a beating next time."

All except the Companion stuttered and backed off and she simply smiled at him when he glared at her, brushed a hand over River's hair, then turned away to walk out the same hatch Zoe had, muttering something about seeing if the first mate needed any help . River stilled, and Riddick wondered if the woman had directed a specific thought her way. But he didn't get a chance to ask her because the Captain was speaking again.

"All right then," Mal's voice was as uncomfortable as his face, and he scratched at the back of his neck. The gun hand next to him was watching the proceedings with some interest and no little disgust on his face, and Riddick wondered if this was the next man he'd need to pound into the ground. River shook her head at him as Mal continued. "Think we can guess the rest. You got in touch with Badger, had him set up the meet. Got triggered in that bar." He sighed and came over to lay a hand on River's shoulder. "Did you plan to come with us at all?" This close, Riddick could smell the sadness coming off the man, along with something else he couldn't pin down. In his mind, the girl showed him a deep seated regret that reached all the way back to the day she'd come on board. Interesting that.

River backed up to meet her Captain's eyes. "Didn't know. Wanted to see if it would be needles and threats or acceptance first. _Did_ have cargo."

"The dead girl you moved from his ship?" The Captain's voice was wary. "You know our record with bring'n dead folk aboard _Serenity_."

"She is truly dead," River whispered. "Promised to take her to Haven, she deserved a place to rest."

The Captain blinked, and looked at Riddick, but the man didn't feel like giving him any clues. It hit too close to home, and was too much like giving trust to these people he still wasn't sure he wasn't going to kill next time they looked at him wrong. Frowning, the Captain ran a hand through his hair. "And since we didn't get her aboard, you think the Alliance will want her."

River shook her head. "Blue Sun. Take the Pax, take the serum in her veins. Create new soldiers. Like Reavers but not. Controlled, aimed. Could stabilize the Alliance with them, if they can make the merge work."

The Captain shuddered, and fear rolled off of all the rest of the crew left in the room. Riddick fought the urge to try and rub it out of his nose and settled for glowering at River instead. "Told ya," he grumbled, "can't go back. Two and half days out, two and half more in. They'll either have a trap waiting or surveillance, and the minute you set foot back on that planet they'll _know_ how important she is."

"He's right," Jayne holstered his gun and hooked his thumbs into his belt. "Even at hard burn that's five days to figure out where you two docked." The man leaned forward so he could meet River's eyes. "We all gone through too much Moonbrain, to walk back inta that."

This close, Riddick could smell concern and worry under all the fear; and he raised an eyebrow at the gun hand before turning back to River. "One step at a time girl. Can't fix it now."

"But what do we do?" That was Kaylee, still holding her husband up and reeking of terror. Her voice shook with it, and Riddick sighed internally. It was a wonder this woman hadn't gotten herself killed yet. River chuckled wryly and patted him on the shoulder in agreement; ignoring the confused looks the crew gave her.

"Like the man said," the Captain repeated. "One step at a time." He looked at the pair in front of him a moment, trying to meet Riddick's eyes through the goggles, before jerking his head at Jayne. "Seems like it's about mealtime. Jayne, you want to get something started? Kaylee, get the Doc down to the infirmary, make sure he ain't got internal bleeding or some such. Then head on to the engine room. We're gonna drop down to half speed for a while. Give a yell when it's ready." The crew members split off to their duties, leaving River and Riddick standing alone. He gave them a once over and crossed his arms. "Now, River, you feel up to pilot'n yet or should I stay up in the bridge a while?"

Riddick blinked as River heated up like a small furnace in his mind and burnt sugar rolled off of her in waves. She stiffened in front of him, and crossed her arms as she stamped her foot. "Captain Daddy is a hypocrite!" When he prodded for an answer, she threw a jumble of arguments in his direction, all having something to do with shipboard romances being A Very Bad Idea. To top it off, she dumped her initial assumption of what the Captain would be expecting from them based on what the man knew of them so far. Not that Riddick didn't plan on doing any of those things to her, but now wasn't really the time. Besides, there was still the whole issue of her bleeding that needed to be worked out too. Was she really serious about a week with no sex? Did she think the blood bothered him much?

The man snorted and shook his head, oblivious to the rabbit trails the ex-convict's mind was running down. "Learned that lesson long ago 'Tross. I'm serious. Your brother still needs to check those feet, and that bite on your man's shoulder is too big to come from you." He paused as Riddick growled and set his jaw before continuing, talking to Riddick this time. "The man is a doctor in that infirmary, and Jayne's living proof that he holds to his oaths."

"Venereal disease," River chirped, and Jayne squawked a protest over by the stove. They ignored him, the Captain and River chuckling and Riddick blinking at them both.

"Be that as it may," Mal continued. "Zo and 'Nara gone missing and when those two start plottin' behind my back I tend to get stuffed in monkey suits and stuck in a wedd'n of some sort. Happened three times so far on this boat, take it as a kindness 'Tross, if you'd go make sure they aren't plann'n something."

River choked and turned colors as she fell out of the tree, Jayne brayed out a laugh over in his corner, and Riddick felt cold dread creeping down his back at the words. Mind gone numb, he let River take his hand and pull him towards the same door the woman had left through earlier. She was still giggling in his head as she pulled him down a hall that smelled of engine grease and the combined scents of the rest of the crew, stopping in front of a hatch set low into the bulkhead.

"They've been thinking on sheets," she whispered between giggles. "And getting the girl's room tidied so it's not so obvious Sierra camped there." She braced one hand on a handle set near the top, kicked at the bottom, and it clanked open. Smiling at him, still laughing and shoving visions of him dressed in a suit towards his mind, she dropped down into the compartment.

And let out a wail.

~HHYFN~

**Author's Note:** Took me long enough. I tried to cut this chapter in half several times, but they just weren't having it. Silly crew. Stop talking will ya? Also, I realize there's a lot of pulling of guns and threatening Riddick with them without anyone actually taking a shot at him. But River's usually in the way somehow, and I don't think they want to create more work for Simon if it turns out that they shouldn't have put holes in the big man rampaging through their boat. I know I'm leaving A LOT unanswered here, but just trust me. There's a flow to these things, and shoehorning that much exposition into a couple chapters isn't what I want to do.

I really do need to label parts of this story though. Like in some of the classic novels. Part I: In Which Riddick Discovers a Ship in Space and His Already Discombobulated Life Gets Turned Upside Down, Again. Part II: In Which Our Intrepid Pair Venture Into Space and Try Not to Kill Each Other Before the Sex Happens. I think we've arrived at Part III: In Which the Crew of _Serenity_ Wonders What the Fuck They were Thinking When They Brought Him On Board. Whaddya think? Catchy eh?

Anyhoo, I don't own them. I don't. No really. I do own a grill, in which certain steaks encountered _**Fiery Death!**_ today and then were tasty. But I don't own these characters or their worlds. Boo.

Guest/Anon: Yeah, she kinda did break him. Oops. Thanks for the comment!

Rachet: Love that you liked the update! Hope you like this one I am trying to think of this as a long narrative arc. It was never meant to be just River+Riddick and then they come aboard _Serenity_. There are so many avenues to explore here; I just couldn't leave it there. I hope the plot keeps surprising you. I don't feel it, but then, I know exactly where it's headed too…

Shenandoah76209: Yeah, Riddick does best when the world's going to pot I've noticed. I'm trying to keep the chapter's relevant instead of just being full of filler content, so while I hope I don't ever dump too much on the reader, I also don't want to make them bored either. Hope it works. As for the Necro/Reaver thing, I'm playing with Necro lore a bit, since we don't have much info on them. But the idea of the two mashed together was just too much fun, and gave these two a much better goal to work towards. After all, I could do more character building between them and the crew, but after everything I've put them through so far, that seemed like a bit of a letdown. Thanks for the critiques! I'm trying to keep things understandable. Please feel free to point anything else out to me!

Guineverekay: Glad I could spur a reaction. I always want to do that in people, and am so glad when you all comment and tell me I succeeded. I want the crew to continue to make things frustrating, but at the same time if I do too much of that, then Riddick with just kill them all and that would be sad. Along the lines of Fiery Death! sad. And yeah. Reavers with the control of Necros…now there's the stuff of horror flicks.

Beth Weasley: Hey a new face! Glad to see you! We'll see in a bit what they're going to do about Kyra. It will in no way be enjoyable, I can promise you that. So happy you like the way I write. Hope you continue to pop in and read. Love it when people read my work, love it more when they comment!

Translations

_ge ge_ Brother

_mei mei_: Sister

_hwoon dahn_: Bastard

_liè tóu rén_: Head hunter, recruiter

_Juh jen sh guh kwai luh duh jean ja_: This really is a happy day

_Tian xiz shou you de ren dou gai si: _ Fuck everyone in the universe to death

_Tah mah duh hwoon dahn: _Mother fucking bastard (loosely)

_shiong-muh duh duang-ren_: Violent lunatic

**River's Scents**

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

**Boat Terms**

Forward/bow—Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	20. Chapter 20

Ch. 20

_How did you know you were an easy key?  
You unlocked things I never knew were inside of me.  
Torn in two, our worlds began colliding.  
I was alive, I heard my heart beat._

How did you know you were an easy key?  
You unlocked things I never knew were inside of me.  
You smiled at me, a sun that would not fell me.

"Killer & a Queen", Stella Katsoudas (Sister Soleil)

Riddick was down the hatch and had landed in the compartment below before he really registered the pain and hurt in River's voice. Running feet above him told him that some of the others had heard her cry out, but he placed them by weight and smell and ignored them. There was a bit of scuffling, and then the Captain called down "River?"

"It's ok Sir." That was Zoe, voice full of humor. "She just got there before we could."

"What?"

"Just go back to the bridge Mal," Inara's voice had a smile in it, and the two women smelled so smug Riddick could practically see it in the air. "We'll tell you later."

Boots tromped back to the galley as Mal and Jayne grumbled and muttered under their breath about ruttin' womenfolk, but Riddick had already tuned them out. His attention was fixed on River, who stood in the middle of the completely empty bunk, hands to her face and eyes huge. A boot on his shoulder made him look up, and he glared at Zoe as she tried to toe him out of the way. He moved aside with a low growl, wishing for his blades and wondering where they'd been stashed. She ignored the rumble in his chest as she moved past him and reached for River. Inara followed, and he couldn't figure out the smirk she was wearing before she too, enveloped the girl in her arms. "We're so sorry _mei mei_. We didn't know we'd hid it that well. And we didn't know Mal would let you go so soon."

Still rumbling, Riddick stepped forward and reached for River in his mind. She wasn't there, not really, and a trickle of running water showed him that she was digging through the minds of the women instead of paying attention to him. Her gasp and the sudden roil of silk and mint that flooded his nose didn't clear matters up any. ::River?:: His animal dropped down to the stream and eyed it carefully, as if there were poisonous snakes that might strike from the water. ::Mind telling me what's going on?::

She dropped, boneless, and the women helped her find a seat on the edge of the bed as Riddick lunged to catch her. Zoe turned and planted a hand in his chest, but her eyes weren't the hard threat he'd been expecting. It was the same look she'd been giving him earlier, and something was tugging at the corners of her mouth as she braced herself against his weight. "Calm down. She's all sorts of fine. Like 'Nara said, didn't expect her to find the surprise so soon is all. Planned to be wait'n for y'all."

Riddick growled, but quit trying to get past her. "What surprise? Showing her a gutted room, like you gave up on her? That supposed to be good?"

The Companion sighed and leaned her head against River's. "Men," she muttered, as if that should explain everything.

River giggled and stood so she could wrap her arms around Zoe and squeezed so hard the woman lost her breath. "Don't know how to repay you. Would offer to watch Sierra forever, but since the whole crew does that…" She laughed and turned to give Inara the same treatment. "Love you both forever for this!" And she was off, grabbing Riddick by the arm as she passed, and scrambling up the ladder like a monkey.

The big man stopped at the base, watched her climb, and then turned to glare at the women who far too happy with themselves. They took one look at his face and burst out laughing, and he growled as he waited for them to stop holding each other up and give him some sort of explanation. He tracked River with his mind and found her running through the ship, joy rippling through her, before she slammed up a wall with a teasing ::Have to see for himself!::

"We-we-" Inara clapped her hands over her mouth and tried to calm herself down. He was starting to see where River got her habit of trying to laugh and talk at the same time.

Zoe was having more luck. She was wiping tears from her eyes, and he could smell deep rooted sorrow under the mirth for a moment before she stood and brushed herself off. "We know a thing or two about pairings that just don't look right on the surface. The menfolk on this boat may be _chí__dùn_, and the Doc especially where women are concerned, but it really don't take much figuring to see what you two are to each other."

Riddick snorted and kept his doubts to himself on that score as he looked over at the Companion, just now getting herself under control. "'Sat so?"

The elegant woman nodded and chuckled. "A year and a half Mal and I danced around each other. He tells me Zoe spent more time looking for ways to drive Wash off the ship the first eight months he was aboard than she did looking at the man under the horrible shirts and, so I hear, mustache." She shook her head and stood, smoothing her dress with careful fingers. "There's not a one of us on this boat who would have ever guessed we'd end up marrying who we did. Those scars," she reached out to touch his arm gently, but didn't try to trace the still healing cut. "Those are as good as vows. River never has been…" she trailed off and shrugged.

"Anything like anyone else," Zoe finished for her. "Why would the man she picked be any different?" She leaned a hip against the tiny dresser and grinned at the confusion Riddick knew was plastered all over his face. Was River's mind reading contagious? Or did they just all know each other that well? Zoe was still talking, oblivious to the thoughts chasing themselves through his mind. "For one thing, you'll never fit on this bed, shoulders like yours, much less the both of you living in this glorified closet. It was never meant for a main crewmember after all. Smaller than the rest, but River said she liked it that way. She don't spend much time in here anyways, truth to tell."

Inara was grinning as she placed her hands on his shoulders, and Riddick found himself being turned around and shoved him gently back towards the ladder leading up to the hall. How the hell did every woman on this ship manage to reach right past his defenses and push him around like this? "We made up the bed in the first shuttle," the woman was saying. "We tend to keep it there for the girls I find for the Training Houses, but we can use the passenger dorms for that from now on."

"Besides," Zoe's lips twitched again and he looked down to find himself three steps up the ladder and no way of knowing how he came to be there. "River ain't exactly quiet. Not a one of us want to hear our _mei mei_ making those noises. Distance will muffle it a bit."

Their laughter chased him the rest of the way up the ladder, and Riddick thought it may have been the first time in his life that he actually felt embarrassed about something. A chuckle from the entry to the bridge alerted him to Mal's presence, and he raised an eyebrow while trying to shut his ears to the mutterings about muscles and _pi gus_ that he could still hear below.

"Used wiles on you, didn't they?" The Captain took a sip from the mug he was holding and shook his head. "Word to the wise. They only let me think I'm Captain; when it comes time to get shot and all. Ruttin' women run this ship and don't think they'll let you forget it."

"I heard that," Inara called up the hatch, and Riddick beat tracks before he could land himself in the middle of another mess.

He followed apples and rain back through the galley, down the hall, glancing in the engine room when he heard the quiet voices of Simon and Kaylee, then on down a set of stairs into a small room set up as a living area. A pair of dark eyes in midtoned skin met his goggles, but the little girl went about straightening pillows and patting blankets into place as she stared at him. He watched her back until he had passed the infirmary, closed up and dark, and gone up another set of stairs. The little girl followed him to the hatch, and he could feel her eyes on him as he traced the increasing scent of silk and minty anticipation out into a cargo bay and up another set of stairs on the starboard side of the boat.

He paused a moment at the landing, looking down on the mix of crates, the odd vehicle hanging from the ceiling, and the free weights and bench tucked under the portside stairs. The ship hummed, and he could hear faint footsteps as her crew moved around, murmured voices, and the pulse of the engines. It had its own smell, this ship, and although he couldn't name it, he didn't find himself minding it either. Lived in, like the _Hound_ had been, but more. He had a feeling that the crew of the _Hound_ had tolerated each other, but not been family. Not been like this crew.

And here they were, taking him at face value, all on the word of a slip of a girl who might go batshit insane and kill them all in their sleep one night. Did they realize he could do the same, without needing to go nuts? Fuck, he'd nearly killed most of them at least once so far and had been dead set on kicking the Doc to a pulp not twenty minutes ago. Were they all brain damaged? Was it contagious? What the fuck was wrong with these people that the Captain had more fear of madmen thousands of kilometers away than he did of the murderer standing in the middle of them?

What special sort of crazy did this ship carry, that the first mate and the Captain's wife plotted to move him in with River without a single word of protest? He'd been expecting something out of these people. Fear, wary looks, even being attacked, and he'd gotten them, but only when he was still nameless and unknown. After that it had been his actions that sparked those responses, and every one of them had stood their ground anyways. Even the Doc and the mechanic. Now that the blind rage was past he could see the man's point, and while he may never like him, or even want to be in the same room as him again, he _had_ been looking out for his sister. If he'd looked out for Jack like that, if _anyone _had, would he be here now? Would she be alive?

Shaking his head, still wondering if he'd taken a harder hit to it than he'd thought to make him so complacent, Riddick turned and walked up the final set of steps and into the shuttle. The silk and mint were still drifting in the air; but there was something new as well. Something almost like wet earth and ozone mixed together. Now what?

River was standing in the middle of the ovoid space, arms wrapped around a box and staring at a large bed. He followed her gaze to the bed, and the baskets sitting in the middle of it. There were three, one piled high with cloth, another full of assorted odds and ends, and another stacked with pads of paper and other bits of drawing paraphernalia. Dark eyes met his, and she managed a smile. "Here lay her worldly belongings," she whispered. "Most of them. Her weapons are hidden from little fingers. Off ship gear stashed till she needs it." She smiled and set the box she was holding down at her feet. He noticed it in an absent sort of way; it was an intricate thing covered in and inlay made of various woods in a geometric pattern that would put some of the stuff he'd seen on Helion Prime to shame.

He frowned at her. The silk was still there, but so were tears and wet earth. Her mind was still mostly closed off from his, and even though he'd found the surprise left for them, she wasn't opening up. Neither the girl nor the weapon were anywhere near the tree or the cave his animal had retreated into as the man took the fore. She didn't resist though, when he paced over to her and ran a hand up her arm. "More than I ever had," he said. "Even in Strikeforce."

She gave him a watery smile and reached for the nearest basket, setting it to the side and letting her hair fall over her face in a curtain as she turned away from him. The movement sent a small draft of her scent towards him, and he caught the blood again and frowned. ::River?:: He pushed the thought at her as gently as he could. ::Gotta open up.::

She shook her head and reached for the next basket. "This was Inara's shuttle, when she first came to the ship. Paid rent. Forbade the Captain from entering uninvited." She flashed a grin his way and if it hadn't been for her scent and the wall in her mind, he would have believed it was real. "He did anyways. Said she'd never service crew either."

"She was a whore?" Riddick snatched the basket, this one full of things like hairbrushes and toiletries, from her hands and set it behind him. She glared, and reached for the last one, but he caught her hand and turned her towards him.

"Not a good word on _Serenity_. Captain Daddy may shoot you. Inara may attempt poisoning. Kaylee will throw engine parts if you try to enter her domain."

He refused to be distracted, although he gave her points for trying. Instead he raised an eyebrow and waited. She rolled her eyes. "Companion. Trained from very young age in many arts, not just sex. Counselor when needed, mediator sometimes. Everything she did was supposed to be art." River took her hands from his and backed up two steps towards the middle of the room before coming up on her toes. "Music," she paused, arms outstretched, then reached for the ceiling with her leg and the deck with her hand. "Dance." She came up, brought her foot down, and leapt straight in the air, flinging both legs in opposite directions as her arms followed, and Riddick's animal growled in appreciation as it emerged from its cave to watch. The wave of her scent reached them, and it sneezed a bit at the blood in it, but didn't take its eyes off her, even though her mind was still closed to them. She was standing flatfooted now, staring at him, and he wondered how he'd ever not wanted her living in his mind. The fact that she wasn't sitting with his animal or by the newly formed stream was unnerving as hell and he pushed the feeling towards her as consistently as he could.

"Now she is seeker of new girls for the Training Houses," River was speaking is if she couldn't hear a thing he was thinking, coming back to the bed and stretching out a hand for the last basket.

He pulled it away before she could get to it and set it with the others, grinning and hoping it would provoke her. It worked. She aimed a kick at his leg, which he dodged. "She is able to carry things! Is not completely useless!"

That brought him up short. "What?"

She crossed her arms and glared at him. "You heard her."

The animal rumbled protest and the man shook his head. She wasn't giving him anything to go on here and he realized he'd gotten so used to being able to take a read on her mind that the scent clues were only telling him half the story. Riddick groaned and ran his hands over his head. "River…" he trailed off. He could hear people moving around in the ship, Jayne was down in the cargo bay, the little girl in the common room was singing softly, and he realized that he had left the hatch on the shuttle open.

"No more run of the ship," she whispered sadly, and his animal pricked up its ears. At least she was still picking things out of his mind. Riddick mulled that over as he turned to find the doorpad for the hatch. He made sure it was shut and locked before finding the lights and bringing them down to less painful levels. River waited, still as a statue behind him, while he pulled off his goggles and set them on the small couch someone had managed to get in here.

"No," he said quietly as he turned and caught her hand so he could pull her over. "Not so much." She didn't resist when he sat and arranged her in his lap so she was facing him. Apprehension had drowned out the silk and mint, and the blood was more obvious here. He laid his arms along the back of the couch and watched her, waiting. She stared back at him, more uncomfortable with each passing second, and in his head the animal snorted and laid its head on its paws. It could be patient. The prey had to poke its head up at some point.

"Has the Riddick sired progeny?"

She won.

"What?!" If she hadn't been sitting on him and he hadn't been enjoying it so much, he might have set records for how high a person could shoot up in the air from a seated position. As it was, he jerked in place and went stiff as a board in shock. Frantic, he searched her face and her scent and even her closed off mind for some inkling of where it had come from; for hidden laughter and _any_ indication that it was a joke. All he came up with was even more apprehension, worry, and something he couldn't place but was definitely _not_ a happy feeling. Foreboding maybe.

"She has asked-"

"Heard ya the first time." He clenched his hands and then, deliberately, tried to force the tension and shock out of his body. It was only a partial success. "Where the fuck did that come from?"

"Will you just answer?" She was getting irritated now, which was better than whatever she'd been before, but he was still having trouble wrapping his mind around the question.

"Why?"

She smacked him, and bit of steel rammed its way up his nose. He snorted, surprised, and eyed her warily. "Fuck River, hell if I know." He reached up to take her shoulders. "Why?" He was growling now, surprise and no little fear still rushing through his veins.

She looked down at her hands where they played with the edges of his shirt. "She is trying to decide."

That was it. He was sick and fucking tired of the wall keeping him from telling what was really going on. ::_River_,:: slamming a fist into the barrier she'd thrown up between them, and the girl shuddered in his grip. ::Open the fuck up and tell me what the _fuck_ is wrong!:: The man was still looking for a way to break in or climb over, while the animal crouched, ready to attack whatever it was that had their girl so tied up in knots.

The girl stiffened, and then crumpled forward as she let the walls down and the man and animal stumbled inside. She waited, panting, as they sifted through the surface thoughts and on down to the roiling tempest below.

Her voice was small when she spoke just as he thought he'd found the tiny nugget of doubt in the middle of all the turmoil. "Is she really the match? Is she? Cries and weeps and loses her mind. Hormones out of balance, forever out of balance! Now she bleeds and they are worse! She has no amygdala, no way to control it!" She was gasping between words now, and he could feel hot tears soaking his shirt. "Simon may not think it wise to mess with them anymore. Has never been on birth control. Does not know if it would help or hinder!"

He froze with his hands buried in her hair and pushed the animal aside so the man could process the implications of that statement for a moment. He latched onto the one part of the rant he knew he could answer, whatever the rest of it might mean in the long term. Gently as he could he forced her head up so she would meet his eyes. "What the fuck River?" He dropped one hand so he could pull her hips closer, savoring her scent as it wound its way up his nose, blood and all. It was River's after all. She whimpered, and her fingers clenched in his shirt. ::What the fuck makes you think I'd want to give you up?::

::Words,:: she muttered, and tears dripped down her face and ran over his hand where it cupped her jaw.

::There are no words for this. Not in any language.:: He stretched, still not sure how he did it, the animal lending primal strength to the calculations of the man and both reaching for the girl and her weapon half. They pulled, dragging the two up out of the stream and onto the bank. Voices and thoughts, even the emotions of the crew echoed around them until River walled them out, focused her entire being on Riddick and his surroundings. Only it wasn't Riddick next to the girl-weapon. It was the man; calculation and planning, forethought and memory. He stood, naked but for his wit and intellect, and surveyed her with cool eyes. She wondered if these were the eyes he'd had before, before he'd woken up in slam with a woman talking in his head and the ability to see in the dark. Brown, dark and deep, they examined, assessed, and evaluated.

Beyond, past the tree with its wide roots and even wider branches, an animal paced and snarled into a cave. Black spots showed against dark fur, hints and teases at depths unknown to those who lived in light. River moved instinctively towards it, even though the weapon tried to hold her back. The beast turned, drawn by the motion, and hissed in anger. She jumped in surprise. This was not her jaguar. This was not her animal; the one that lay next to her in the tree and allowed her liberties with its body that would have gotten others killed. This was feral, unthinking, unreasoning rage. This was the need to kill anything that got between it and what it wanted, because it wouldn't accept anything less. Because it hurt too much to do anything more.

::This was me. Not a month ago.:: Chocolate and coffee warmed to perfection drizzled over her consciousness, and both the weapon and the girl stopped their struggle to bask in it. ::So fucking pissed at everything that I was ready to kill anyone who crossed me. Generally did too.:: The man set his hands on her shoulders and held her still as the animal paced closer, eyes hot with rage. ::I'd lost everything. Caroline, Imam. Jack turned into Kyra and then she went and got herself killed too. All on account of me.::

The girl-weapon twisted to look up at the man, but he was staring at the animal, lips pulled back and brown eyes glaring as the two stepped away from her and closer to each other. A hole opened up in the ground between them, deep and dark, big enough to hold the animal but not to let it move once it was down there. The man spoke without looking back, and the animal growled at the sound. ::Took the animal, everything that had softened me up and made me take the stupid risks and pull shit I shoulda never done or lived through, stuffed it down. :: The hole vanished and the giant cat snarled again at the man before turning its attention back to the girl-weapon. The man stayed where he was, eyes implacable as he watched the hunter and the prey. ::Left me with the rage. Coming out of everything I did or said. Sent the Necros to their deaths, I hope. Ran the other direction. Never wanted another person to see me with anything but fear again.::

The animal leapt, blind with bloodlust and claws unsheathed. The girl wasn't where she'd been. She slipped sideways and down, spinning on one heel as she crouched to avoid the attack. The animal landed and turned to follow, great chunks of metaphorical ground being tossed into the air as the claws dug and flung. The girl made a leap of her own, driving one of her bladed hands into the shoulder of the animal and coming to land astride its back. It roared; but the girl had latched on with arms and legs and hands and knees, plastering herself to it. Blades rose from her body, drove themselves deep into the animal, and melded with it. Snarling and hissing, it sank to its belly as the girl merged with it, and a little of the rage and hate left its eyes. The man watched from where he crouched, waited until the girl-weapon had sunk the entirety of herself into the beast, and then looked up at the slim young woman at his side. ::I ain't tamed. Not gone soft. But you got under my skin girl. Got under it and it pissed me off so much I pulled the animal out of its hole and tried to scare the shit out of you with it when I gave you my memories.::

River laughed and crouched down next to him, reaching a hand to trace the line of his leg from hip to knee. The animal rose from the stream bank, shook itself out, and padded over to them. River nearly lost her balance when it bumped at her shoulder with its head, and the man steadied her before reaching out to lay a hand between its ears. ::This is what you've done River. I'm…me again. Always be violent. And never really be nice. But I can feel.:: Brown eyes met brown and a smile tugged at the edges of the man's mouth. ::Woke me earlier, when all that was left was the animal and it didn't understand a word of what was going on around it. Got me shut down when we merged and I was gonna kick your brother to pieces.::

The man's hand sank into the head of the animal and the girl watched as they shifted, melted, and stood again. Animal eyes in a face just as dark as the fur had been met those of the bladed girl, silver flash to steel edges, and he reached to pull her to her feet. ::Can't give you words out loud for this. Nothing explains it.:: And he wrapped her in his arms and she felt herself going. Heat burned, singed and made the steel of her body run. It slipped around him, puddled at his feet, and encased him. He was softening, his own body losing shape and cohesiveness and all of a sudden she could _feel;_ as if everything she'd ever thought she felt was just an echo of the truth, like Plato's perfect world.

It wasn't love. That was a word that couldn't apply. It would never apply. It was the deep rooted certainty that together they made a whole. A single being that stood before the tsunami and was not swept away or drowned. She gave him something he'd lost, and he wasn't even sure how many years he'd been walking around with a crippled soul. He only knew that without her, without the things that made her who she was, he would go right back to the creature he'd been when they met. But _with_ her, he could become something more. Not just himself, but a man worthy of the girl who'd pulled him back to his own version of sanity.

The knowledge burned itself into her mind, seeped through the cracks, and found the spring at the center of her being. Steam boiled up in clouds as he poured certainty down to the very foundations of her soul, refusing to let her go, refusing to give her up. The girl gasped and clung, accepted the gift and making it a part of herself. She could hear voices somewhere, thumping hearts and running feet. But she pushed them aside, walling off the worry and fear in favor of the calm and dedication wrapped around her. She drifted, locked in arms and covered by the warmth of the animal, and for once, she didn't need words.

~HHYFN~

**Author's Note: **So. Totally wasn't planning on this in the big scheme of things, but it's one of my fav chapters so far. I wanted to show that while Riddick has been playing the part of River's anchor to sanity and calm, she's got something to bring to the table as well. It's a partnership of equals after all, and he has changed lots in 20 chapters. And I hope to keep the character development going. I almost cut the story off here in fact, and started a new one under a new title for what comes next. But I figured what the heck. It's all one long story line, working towards a single goal. So let the chapters keep on rolling!

As always folks, I thrive off reviews! Love watching the page counts, follows and favs climb, but reviews are my lifeblood!

By the by, they aren't mine. No really. Not mine. They belong to people with fame, fortune, and a heck of a lot more money than me. What do they need all that for anyways? XD

Rachet: Sleepy Rachet :P Hope this finds you awake. Glad I'm keeping them all in character!

Shenandoah76209: I can't remember who I promised this to, but I told somebody that Simon was going to get the crap beat out of him. I wasn't lying ;) Yeah, just cause Riddick's on _Serenity_, it doesn't mean the mocking will stop. It may get worse actually…hmm..

Guineverekay: So, not so much fiery death in this chapter. Molten fiery souls maybe…but not death. :P Glad you like this. Glad you liked the Riddick vs. Simon. I figured, given what I've been able to dig up on Riddick on wikis and stuff, that there are very few things to truly send him off his rocker from a standing start. Calling him a rapist would probably do it. Thinking he'd raped River would pretty much guarantee instant-death. I don't know so much about epic journey... It's all leading up to one thing though, and while there's "parts" I'm going to try and keep a single threat going through the whole thing. We've sort of moved on from Riddick bonding to River (sort of) and on to how he deals with her family. Because if he's going to stick by her, they need to be death with one way or another. Looking forward to having you keep reading! Hope you continue to enjoy!

Translations:

_ch__í __d__ù__n_ :slow witted/stupid

_mei mei_: sister

_pi gus_: ass/butt

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	21. Chapter 21

Ch. 21

_If I had one wish  
Wwell I don't know whatI wish for  
But if I had a million zillion wishes  
I'd use one to let you know that gibberish is  
Not a nice way to talk to all your friends _

"Gibberish", Relient K

There were hands and bodies and smells that had no business being where they were. River could feel them. Worry, fear, some anger; and a great deal of curiosity rose and fell like waves as people jostled and shoved and tried to crowd into a space not meant for more than three or four. She groaned into Riddick's shoulder and wished briefly for some sort of incendiary device. Something lethal. Lacking that, she'd settle for something to throw, wrenches maybe. Those seemed to work.

"The girl wonders if the Captain Daddy knows how rude it is to enter unasked," she muttered into the warm skin beneath her mouth. Cracking her eyes open nearly got them seared them out of their sockets as blue light pulsed in time with a heartbeat that was slowly rising. Beneath her, Riddick rumbled as his consciousness came back to his body and his nose and ears told him what she already knew. River continued without giving her Captain a chance to speak. Not that he could. His mind had shut down in shock, and words just weren't coming to him right now. "And it is even more rude to stare." She sat up and twisted around so she could glare at the crew gathered in the shuttle. They were, to a man, gape mouthed and round eyed. She sighed.

::River.::

Turning back to Riddick, she raised an eyebrow and tried to keep her face composed. His mind was a turmoil of embarrassment and anger, leavened with a touch of self-deprecation. His face was blank, eyes closed against the lights of the shuttle. And against the light his body was giving off. His hands on her hips tightened, and his animal fed her the scent of apples and rain, but with more of the old blood covering it. She'd have to get that taken care of soon. Very soon.

::I'm going to kill them all. You love any of them, better try and stop me.::

In for a penny, in for a pound. River groaned again and dropped her head to his shoulder. She'd known explanations as to their bond would be in order eventually. The crew had been so distracted earlier that they hadn't realized the implications of it. And then, about the time she'd expected them to start questioning it, questioning him, Riddick had caught that bit of _go se _from Simon and all logical thought had flown right out the metaphorical windows. She didn't know if she should be grateful or not that the inevitable confrontation had been over with so quickly. She was just glad that she'd managed to get the animal shut down before he tore her brother to pieces. This was not how she'd envisioned her homecoming.

She had hoped to control the circumstances of this discussion as well. As it was, she was just glad that none of the crew could gather themselves enough to start in with the shouting she knew was coming. "She may help you. After all," she pulled herself out of his grip and stood "They were never invited into the shuttle in the first place."

"Been eight hours," Mal croaked. "Figured-" he stopped, shook his head, rubbed his hands over his face in disbelief. River ignored him in favor of helping Riddick up off the couch. Not that he needed it. But it was an excuse to be touching him, and it kept her close in case he really _did _decide to kill them all. She really couldn't blame him. A skim of the minds around her told her that the Captain spoke truth. How long had they drifted? Or had the entire encounter taken far less time in their heads than in the physical?

She caught sight of a pair of dark eyes in milky brown skin and sighed. "Sierra."

Zoe picked up her daughter and nodded. "She wanted to get you. Complaining about you missin' her birthday an' all."

The glow was dimming a bit as Riddick rolled his head back along his shoulders and took deep breaths to try and slow his heart and get the emotions they'd opened between them a bit more under control. She could still feel them, raw and alive in her awareness, and the cut on her arm pulsed in time with his heartbeat. She gave a mental caress to the ears of the jaguar and shoved past her crew to get to the light switch.

"Just for that," she called over her shoulder. "The birthday present will have to wait until another time." She brought the lights down to their dimmest setting, ignoring the mutters of surprise and protest from her family. "Safe now," she told Riddick, and he opened his eyes to glower at the people gathered in front of him.

"One. Fucking. Word," he growled. "Just say it."

The response that sparked in the crew's collective mind made River clap a hand over her mouth to keep the giggles in, and he shot her a glare. She didn't get a chance to reply though, because Sierra wiggled around in her mother's grasp, reached for him with both arms, and said "Pretty!"

River howled. Her legs went out from under her and she sat down hard, holding her ribs and not doing a thing to stop it. Riddick snarled at her in his mind, but his focus was still on the crew. Simon had a hand over his mouth, and River could hear his mind churning through the possibilities. Kaylee was staring in fascination, and the girl shied away from the mechanic's direction of thought. Really, she was as bad as a man sometimes. Zoe was trying to fight a smile as she pulled Sierra away from the angry Furyan and River was glad. The woman with a stone heart had smiled very little in the past few years.

Jayne was looking from the faintly glowing man to the girl laughing on the floor and privately decided that they deserved each other. When He caught her eye she winked at him and thought very deliberately that the day Mal asked him to take the big guy on was the day he jumped ship and found a new berth. Not enough money in the word to make him go up against a man who could hold his own with the Moonbrain, and that blue shit was just plain weird. The thought sent River off in a fresh spate of giggles; and she couldn't seem to stop herself, even when Riddick stalked over and crouched to glare at her. The glow was mostly gone, just the lip and handprint gleaming with residuals, and his eyes flashed blue in the last bits of light. Growling, her man scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed. "River, will ya shut up?"

She flapped a hand at him. ::Can't!::

"What the gorram hell is going on?" Mal had found his voice, and it was an even mix of shock and wonder as it reached heights great enough to crack glass. River winced in sympathy for Riddick's ears and the man turned to stare at the Captain.

::Might as well answer.:: She was still laughing too hard to speak in words. ::They were going to found out eventually.::

Riddick growled again and looked over at the gathered crew. They were still staring, and the curiosity rolling off of them was enough to drown all his senses. He prodded River again with his mind, annoyed at the fact that there was growing humor in those faces. "Girl, will you get a hold of yourself?"

She gasped and reached for his hands and he pulled her up to her feet. She was still giggling, but making an attempt to get it under control. "Furyan," she force out finally. "Alpha. King among his people." She ignored him when he rumbled out a protest and leaned against him for support.

Disbelief now, on the crew's faces, and no few raised eyebrows. Riddick sighed to himself and maneuvered her over to the bed so she could sit and he wouldn't be tempted to stick her in a chokehold just to get her to stop laughing at him. She grinned in his head and tugged on the animal's tail before retreating at high speeds. He glared and crossed his arms, refusing to be distracted from the situation at hand.

"Furyan," Simon repeated, just so he could be sure he'd heard it right. "Nobody on Fury-"

Riddick snarled, and River reached for his hand. "Not Fury. _Furya._ Last of the Exodus from Earth-That-Was found a different set of stars. Adapted. Became new. Different"

Riddick was eyeing her warily in his head as he stood next to the bed and watched the people squinting in the dim light. The last of the glow was gone, and he could feel heart rates rise as they tracked him by his eyes and the shadowed shape of his bulk. It was the Doc who spoke up, apparently he was a little more immune to the effect River could have on people. "River, evolution takes-"

"Probably aided by science." The girl looked up at Riddick and he could feel the seriousness in her mind, even though her voice was still bordering on laughter. A brief vision of UV-6 and T-2 flashed through his head, followed by the jungles full of headstones. "Some worlds very harsh after all," she finished.

Riddick ran his hands over his head and surveyed the crew with eyes and nose and ears. They were processing it, doubt warring with interest in their faces and their scents. The Doc looked like he was calculating odds, Jayne just looked flat puzzled, and the women all had varying degrees of assessment in their eyes. He didn't know if he liked that, and pushed at River to see if she'd give him her read of them. All he got was a flash of embarrassed humor and frustration before she shoved him away from those thoughts. The animal laid its ears back, and the girl stomped her foot at the base of the tree. ::Leave her alone on this! She is angry enough already about it.::

He snorted as he put the pieces together. ::The women on this crew are a bunch of lechers girl.::

:There have been plots to steal towels and force the menfolk to walk naked through the ship,:: she replied, and he could feel the embarrassment roll of her body as burnt sugar and old blood filled his nose. He wanted to laugh, but the blood was becoming an itch he couldn't scratch. The crew still hadn't said anything, and River had clamped her mouth shut, leaving the rest to him.

He poked her gently in the shoulder to remind her that there would be consequences later, and spoke up. "Ain't a king. Furyans are all as good as dead anyways. Just want to be free." He caught a minute jerk in the Captain's face, and Zoe's had closed down like a stone wall. He could see how River had decided her nickname.

"Then Necromongers came and an old friend thought that the Riddick could help."

Riddick looked down at River, apples and rain and cool water rising with the heat of her body and her voice as serious as it had ever been. The crew was giving off more confusion, and he had the sinking feeling that explaining the Necromongers might require the sort of visual aids used on small children. Very graphic visual aids. This day just got better and better. He sat down next to the girl on the edge of the bed and wrapped an arm around her waist. "May as well sit," he muttered. "You all look like a flock of birds with your mouths open like that."

Embarrassment, some anger. The Captain snorted and Riddick caught a draft of humor. They rearranged themselves, the Companion and her husband on the couch, Kaylee next to them with Sierra in her lap. Simon took the pilot's seat at the nose of the little ship, and Jayne and Zoe leaned up against the bulkheads. He noticed that their holsters were unclipped, and approval warred with anger. These were the truly dangerous ones, ready to draw and fire and unwilling to compromise their ability to react quickly. The Captain could be dangerous too, but either he really did trust River's judgment or he was using these two as a foil for when he had to make a move. Riddick had a feeling it was a mix of both.

"Didn't give a-" he caught sight of the set of huge brown eyes in Kaylee's lap and the glare the woman was shooting him made him bite his tongue on the words he usually used. "Damn about Necromongers coming or worlds ending. Had to happen sometime. But Jack had run off, gone looking for me."

"Jack?" Inara's voice was puzzled, and he remembered that neither he nor River had given them much about the girl he'd met so many years ago during the conversation the night before.

"Kyra. Knew her first as Jack. Was traveling as a boy when we crashed…seven years ago now. Give or take." Riddick shrugged and River twitched next to him, but said nothing. She was seated at the base of the tree with the animal on one side and the man on the other, but she'd clearly decided that she was done enough talking for now. "Left her with the holy man in New Mecca. He was 'sposed to take care of her. But she ran. Came looking." He let himself drift a moment, back to a warm night and a room full of strangers, police at the door and Imam's voice. The accusation in it hadn't lessened any, and neither had the guilt. The man had known his trade. In his mind, River shook her head and sighed.

"Went after her. Crematoria. Thirty klick band of territory on that planet where a person won't freeze and shatter or get incinerated by the sun. Maximum security prison under the crust." A few of the faces tightened at that, and the Captain sat forward, eyes intent. "Gotta kill a few people, get sent a place like that. It's what she'd planned to do I think. Become me." Riddick looked down at River, who met his eyes and laid a hand on the man and animal both. Surety radiated from her, and she was tapping into that well in her center to pour calm water over his frustration and anger. He didn't want to speak on this. Not ever. But she was right. They couldn't understand until they knew. Bastards.

"How many's a few?" That was Jayne, and he had that big knife out, turning it over and over in his hands.

Riddick raised an eyebrow, watching the flash of the nearest light, dim as it was, highlight the edge of the weapon. The other man didn't seem to care, or he couldn't see the gesture in the low light. Finally the ex-convict shrugged. "For her or me? Me, killed a pretty important bastard. No trial, nothing. Company shipped me off. For her? They slaved her out. Never was much of a girl. Vicious little beast sometimes." There were frowns and mutters, but truth was still truth. She'd worked so hard on that rep of hers, so much bravado. Slim fingers reached for his where they rested on River's hip and he pressed his other hand to the bridge of his nose. "So. Went to get her out. It's what I do best, escape. Knew it was possible. They ain't built a cell yet that can keep me. Would have worked too, if the Necros hadn't followed Toombs from Helion."

The confusion was rising in the air around Kaylee and Simon, but the rest, even Inara, seemed to be putting the pieces together fairly well. "These Necros," Mal was scratching at his jaw as he tried to make out the two on the bed. Riddick knew it was getting easier the longer they sat in the dim light. "You've both made a mention o' them. Care to elaborate?"

River stiffened, and the water running down the animal's back and over the man's arm froze and shattered. The weapon rose up behind her, ready to fight. Riddick squeezed her hand and reached in his head, anchoring her to the tree by simple expedient of having the two halves of his self sit on her. Steel and mint faded from the air, to be replaced by apples and rain, cool water and bit of blood. The animal sneezed. It happened in a microsecond, not long enough for the crew to really notice anything was wrong. "Had it explained to me like this," Riddick traced his fingers over the girl's hip and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "They're an army. Headed across the galaxy and aiming for a nebula cluster of new planets they call Underverse. Every populated planet they find, they attack. You can convert and become one of them, or you can die. They decimate and move on."

"Convert," Zoe's voice was flat, her eyes hard. Rage was rising in her; he was starting to be able to pick the individuals from the group now.

"One pain covers another." River's voice was soft, her heart rate was rising slightly, but her scent stayed the same. "Serum anchors the change in the DNA. Don't feel pain, not in the physical. But the mental… it screams for what they gave up, what they lost. Like Reavers but not. They lie down in spirit, but in the physical they kept walking."

There was a chorus of general cursing as the crew looked at each other and citrus bloomed in the air. Riddick snorted to try and clear it from his nose and River leaned a little harder into his side. He waited until they were done before continuing. "Last Lord Marshal, he heard a prophecy. A Furyan would be the one to take him down. So he diverted the Armada to Furya. Killed everyone he could find, kids especially. Didn't offer conversion to very many." He knew this, not from Aereon or the Purifier or even Shirah. There'd been a record in the archives, and that fucking curiosity of his could only be denied for so long before he'd gone hunting for the Necro side of that particular story. It had been startlingly similar to what Shirah had told him.

"But they missed one," Simon's voice was steady, and he was too far away from the bed for Riddick to get an accurate bead on his scent. His breath and heart, they sounded normal enough. He had a feeling though, that the Doc was skeptical about the whole prophecy part. Fuck, he'd been downright pissed about it himself.

"They did." He didn't elaborate as to how he'd survived, and gave River a look as she opened her mouth. Some things people just didn't need to know all at once. "Stuck me in a room with a pile of half dead freaks called Quasi-Dead just before Toombs caught me. They were…Readers I guess. Like River. Pulled things out of my head I didn't know were there. Sent a Commander to Crematoria to make sure I died." Riddick lifted one shoulder, then dropped it. "Nearly got me. Sun rising, pile of soldiers with guns and mad as hell that I was about to die."

River was shaking under his arm, and he caught the wisp of thought as apples and rain bloomed next to him. He growled at her but it was too late. "Walking EMP," she giggled. "Stopped their hearts." She sobered. "Nearly stopped his. Nearly fried on the runway." Dark eyes were glaring up at him, and nothing in her scent or her mind was giving him a clue as to why. He blinked down at her and pushed curiosity her way. She twitched, and grinned. ::He doesn't fall over any more though. Wonder why that is?::

::I'd run almost forty klicks, climbed a fucking mountain, and fought; all on bad food in bad air and worse rest. You do all that and not fall over at the finish line,:: he snapped, but the question had merit. It was worth exploring later.

"So," Kaylee was eyeing him with speculation and no small amount of unease. "You and River'll be staying out of the engine room and bridge when you're sex'n, right?"

Simon and Mal squawked in outrage. Jayne doubled over, wheezing laughter, and Riddick jerked in place as burnt sugar and heat rose off of the girl next to him. Inara had a hand over her mouth and Zoe's face was unreadable. River muttered something, so low and half formed that he couldn't even tell if she meant it to be out loud or not, and he found himself shaking his head. The mechanic was a strange one, but maybe she'd be less trouble than he'd initially thought. Girl had a very entertaining habit of spitting out whatever came to mind. Be interesting to see what she'd say next.

"You lived though, obviously." Inara's eyes were dancing through the serious expression on her face, and he knew she was trying to get things back on track. "What happened to Kyra?"

"Yes." Riddick pinched at the bridge of his nose, rubbing to get rid of an ache that wasn't entirely physical out of his head. He could still see her eyes as she crossed from the Lord Marshall's side. Still see her lying there on the throne room flood, bleeding out and promising that she'd always be with him. Cool water gurgled in the stream, and the man and the girl stood ankle deep in it. He could feel it in his nose too, her scent rising and giving him a focus that didn't have a thing to do with the remembered pain of failure. "Took her chance to live, hopped ship with the Necros. I didn't know till I saw her in the throne room. Thought I'd lost her on Crematoria. Kept me from getting cut in half. Died for it." He raised his head and met the eyes of the crew as they took that in. This was more than he'd ever talked on himself at one time, and he just wanted it over and done. Oddly enough, there wasn't so much pity in their eyes as there was understanding.

::We have all lost. The Captain and Zoe in the war, and more recently. Jayne will not speak of what he no longer has. Kaylee may never see her family again, for what she is now that Miranda has made us hunted.:: River's fingers laced a little tighter with his, and her weapon self laid a hand on the animal's shoulder. ::They would worry more if you had never had anyone to lose. Or would not admit it.::

He snorted at that, but the scents drifting his way seemed to confirm it. They waited, even the little girl, to see what he'd say next; and he couldn't remember the last time anyone besides River had wanted him for something not involving killing a pile of people. She giggled softly in his head and he prodded her back. "Necro's have a rule," he said finally, trying to figure the quickest way to end this. "You keep what you kill. Kyra, she gave me a chance to get back on my feet. Then the Commander who'd come after me made his play. Drove Zhylaw into my blade." He shrugged. "Buried it in his head, snapped off the hilt."

Kaylee was wincing and the Companion looked a little disturbed. It was the Doc that spoke, voice flat, and very few emotional tell tales in his scent. "That explains the Lord Marshall part. And even the…" he hesitated. "Glowing. But what about last night, what Sierra found?"

Riddick eyed the man. Clean cut, but with a five 'o clock shadow and lines of strain around his eyes and mouth that looked like they'd end up being permanent. The whole crew showed the worry and exhaustion of the past few months in their faces. The skepticism was still thick in the air, along with the unease and wariness. The Doc eyed him back, lips set in a firm line, and the ex-Lord Marshal could see that whatever else he might have been in whatever life he'd had before this one, there was a core of titanium there that served just as well in present day difficulties as it must have when he'd decided that he'd be getting his sister back. Part of him said he could break the man, given enough time and the right leverage. The other part said that to do so would take effort far past the worth of the end result. It might be entertaining to try anyways, but now just wasn't the time.

::Trauma surgeon.:: River's fingers traced over his where they rested on her hip. ::Need a cool head. Fast mind. Triage the body. It has served him well in the Black, since the girl has become better than she was, and not just for when the crew needs stitching.:: She looked up at him. ::He worries now. Not just for what we have brought to this corner of space, of the horror that may be unleashed. He worries that you have contaminated me somehow.:: Her voice was sour, and her lips twisted. ::Thinks you a bad influence.::

Riddick snorted out a laugh before he could stop it, and the crew stiffened. River growled her kitten growl and poked him in the ribs. "Not funny." But her lips were twitching as she caught his humor. He grabbed for the hand and shook his head in amusement.

The Doc stood and crossed his arms, jaw set. "I would agree. I fail to find the humor in any of this."

"C'mon Doc," Jayne had put the pig sticker away and his eyes were dancing. "Gotta admit, your sis, taking up with a man what glows blue? You ever think she'd find a _normal_ man?"

That set off a round of chuckles in the others, and the Captain shook his head as he levered himself to his feet, then reached to help Inara up. "Got a point there. Our girl, she's never done a thing by halves."

Simon was still glaring at the pair on the bed. "River." His voice was low, warning; Riddick stopped laughing and glared at the man.

Next to him, the girl sighed. "Not contamination Simon. Not the way you think." The rest of the crew stilled, eyes jumping from one to the other of the participants in this little cold war. "Bond." She lifted her arm and turned it over so he could see the gash that stretched from elbow to wrist. "He is Furyan. I am what I am. Together we are…more." She glanced up at Riddick, buried her hand in the fur at the back of the animal's neck, and slipped the other into the broad palm of the man's. "What Sierra found was-" she shrugged helplessly in the face of her brother's increasingly stony demeanor. Riddick rumbled a growl deep in his chest, but the other man's gaze didn't even flicker his direction. The eyes of the rest of the crew did, but only for a moment.

"Doesn't matter." River stood in one fluid motion and went to stand in front of her brother. "It is ours. Us." She leaned up so she could look him in the eye and Riddick stood as well, fists clenched. Along the wall, the three main guns of the crew had their hands on their holsters, but the weapons had stayed where they belonged. If River noticed, she ignored it. Steel and cool water had drowned out all the other scents, even the incense from Inara, and her heart and breath were steady.

Simon frowned and reached for his sister's hands. "River." He turned over the arm with the bond mark and traced a finger down it. River shuddered in his grip but didn't fight, and a hand on the shoulder of the animal in his head told Riddick to stay where he was. The man shifted on his feet where he stood among spreading roots at the base of the tree but obeyed. "River, how?"

She shrugged. "It is unknown, how it is possible. But belief is not required. Belief or disbelief does not make it more or less real. It _is_. And the promise still stands." Steel in the air now, and it took everything Riddick had to keep his feet in place so he wouldn't go and lend his bulk to her glowering. She twitched in his head, and cool water gurgled in the stream below the tree as the waters rose. "We can still go. If she decides to stay, he will stay. If he decides to leave rather than stay and possibly kill you all for looking at him cross eyed, then the girl with go with him."

"Well then," Mal crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at Riddick. River turned away from her brother to look at the Captain, and Riddick felt interest coming off of her as the steel in the air faded a little. The Captain still had a bit of citrus in his pores, but the majority of his scent had returned to base, with just a hint here and there of watchfulness and determination. "So long as he doesn't try to kill us all in our sleep, a thing which I'd appreciated some warn'n of by the way 'Tross," the man reached for her shoulder as she paced over to stand next to him. Not," and he pointed a finger at Riddick. The big man lifted a lip and River giggled. The Captain glanced down at her before sighing and dropping his hand "Not saying I understand. Not saying I want to. Wise man told me once ta believe this girl. That's what we're gonna do." He leveled a flat look at the Doc, who glared right back. "'Preciate it if you all would stop gawping like a bunch of fish and get back ta your jobs. Got an hour till we hit dirt and myself, I'm right glad to have someone 'sides me to land this boat."

"Sir," Zoe levered herself up from the wall where she'd been leaning. "I think I speak for us all when I say we never want you landin' this thing again."

River slipped over to Riddick in the midst of the laughter that statement brought, and he felt her settle down on the stream bank as she tucked herself under his arm. The Doc was still giving her that stony look, and the speculation in the Companion's eyes was more than a bit interesting. He poked at River, asking for her read on them, but all she would give him as the rest of the crew stood and headed out of the shuttle for their duties was a sense of loss from Simon, and something like measurements from Inara.

He blinked and looked down at the girl and she shrugged as she grinned up at him. ::Will have to wait and see.:: Her face fell though, as Simon brushed by her. Riddick caught anger in his scent, and something flat like stale water. ::He is trying to resign himself to the loss of his sister,:: she murmured. ::It will take time. And he hasn't really lost the girl. Not yet. But they must share.:: Riddick growled, but didn't complain when she elbowed him in the ribs and steered him out the hatch behind the Doc. ::Need to come to bridge with her. Show you how Serenity flies. Maybe have you help Kaylee in engine room when we break atmo on way out. Must show you _Serenity's_ quirks after all.::

He grumbled, but allowed himself to be led. Not as if he hadn't planned to follow her anyways.

~HHYFN~

**Author's Note: ** Thanks ever so for all the favs and follows and reviews and reading you all are doing. Love it! Love you all! This here is just a bit more housekeeping. Cause hey, who wouldn't have questions for the big scary man what glow BLUE?

As always, Serenty/Firefly and the Riddick verse are not mine. Wish they were. But they aren't. Boo.

Shenandoah76209: Glad you like. This Riddick had changed from the snarling snapping time bomb he was at the beginning. I wanted to try and explain that. Yeah, River's still trying to wrap her mind around someone who sees her as she is. It was easier, I think, when they were on the _Hound_. Fewer distractions.

Rachet: Well, here's your panicked running. Glad you liked the imagery!

Guineverekay: Every so often we need the feel goods. Prob'ly won't happen again for a while. Enjoy while we can eh? Me, I sympathize with the mood swings. Tend to terrify the husband person sometimes :P. Makes him fear Fiery Death!

Temerid: Hey hey! Fresh face! I figured having them in one of the bunks was just asking for trouble of all sorts. The shuttle lets me play with the relationship in a little different way. Look forward to hearing from you again.

Translations:

_Go se: _shit

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	22. Chapter 22

Ch. 22

_Well I'm not paralyzed_

_But, I seem to be struck by you_

_I want to make you move_

_Because you're standing still_

_If your body matches_

_What your eyes can do_

_You'll probably move right through_

_Me on my way to you_

"Paralyzer", Finger Eleven

"Now, I know you're out of practice 'Tross. Ain't gonna crash my ship are ya?"

River twisted just far enough in her seat to give Mal a _look_ before going back to the controls and the atmosphere that roiled around them. Her Captain grinned at her, and she could feel his amusement and confidence as it washed over her mind. Behind her Riddick was a warm block of muscle and interest as he latched onto a handle in the ceiling and leaned over her shoulder to watch. His jaguar was draped over the branches of the tree, eyes slitted as it kept its attention on Mal, but the man was focused on what she was doing. He'd tilted his head to look at the Captain when he spoke, but ignored him once he'd established that the man wasn't serious.

River could have told him that, even passed on her impressions, but she was a bit busy _not_ crashing a ship that had not been taken care of very well for the past four months. It shook around them as they passed through the layers of gasses wrapped around the planet below, and there was a rumble in the engine that didn't sound promising. "_Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiouh doh sai-jin wuh duh pee-goo_!" She snarled at the Captain. "Did you let Kaylee do anything for her hurts?"

Mal snorted and edged over to the intercom. "Sure. Set down for repairs. Once." Guilt and anger rolled off him, and he was thinking of all the time spent looking, trying to keep in work and in repair at the same time, and failing at all three. Now they were landing again, with no cargo and few prospects of work on a planet with so many people and such a strong Alliance presence that the smartest thing for them to do would probably be to fuel up and turn right back around. But they needed the cover and she knew it, knew that Blue Sun and the Alliance would be looking for anything abnormal about the behavior of a certain Firefly class ship. They were lucky in that they _had_ been here before, several times. It wasn't going to stand out so much as it would if they were to set down on say, Londinium.

The strongest thing Hibal had going for it at the moment was that it had been the closest place to aim for on leaving Persephone. Closest at least, that didn't land them too near families to be put in danger. Maybe they could scare up a cargo. River shook herself out of her Captain's thoughts and made her mind her own again but for the presence of a very quiet, very watchful Furyan. He shifted, both in the physical and the mental, as he caught the drift of her thoughts, and she wished she had time to truly bask in the feeling of his interest1. But the port side thruster was fighting her and she could spare only a moment to acknowledge him before going back to struggling with the ship.

She growled and reached for the comm. "Kaylee! Bring her down. Jets now!" River tossed the com back over her shoulder and hid a smile at Riddick's grunt of displeasure. It had nearly hit him in the face, and he was fighting for balance after having let go of his anchor to duck. He growled in her head and she grinned back in hers. Her match needed to be kept on his toes after all, and she'd discovered that objects propelled through air at high speeds tended to do a fine job of that. He caught the thought and projected an image of her upcoming punishment, vivid and detailed, into her brain. She knew she stank of vanilla and mint now, and her body was heating were she sat. Mal was eyeing the two of them like they might start something right there and she laughed at the horror he was giving off.

The punishment would have to wait though. She still had at least three or four more days to go of her menses, and the frustration might just kill her if the Alliance didn't catch them first. It wasn't the run of the ship, but the trust implied by the shuttle was worth more to her than anything she could imagine. The fact that Riddick hadn't gutted her crew yet was worth almost more. She was slightly amazed actually, at how well he was taking all of this.

She knew, of course, that he was biding his time. Waiting, assessing, looking for weak points to exploit. It was a thing he'd never stop doing, not even with her. Eventually he'd make a move, one way or another, and time would only tell which way it would be. She hoped he'd make the choice to graft himself in, to choose to become a part of the ship as she had. But if he didn't, if he decided that all of this was something he wouldn't submit too, she knew the direction she'd pick. It would hurt, but she would do it.

She also knew that she was in trouble for more than just the comm unit. Their conversation from earlier was still percolating through his mind, and eventually it would have to be dealt with. Sooner rather than later if Simon didn't feel that injections or pills were the right way to go with the birth control. They'd been tossing the possibilities back and forth for a couple of years now. She'd never been regular after all. But seeing as she hadn't been active in a way that would bring about babies and given the overpowering embarrassment on Simon's part, they'd never moved forward with any plans. Her deep and abiding aversion to needles had been another major factor in her stalling, but the decision couldn't be put off much longer. River shook her head and walled that section of thought off a little tighter as Riddick caught the shift in her scent and gave her a mental poke. It was an all too obvious reminder that there was no avoiding the issue now.

For her part, she liked children. Sierra was a joy. Minds uncomplicated, emotions simple, they were a different kind of peace, most of the time. But what would it do to her body? How would she protect herself if she could hardly stand straight, much less fight? And, far more importantly, what was Riddick's take on the matter? She'd thought his heart would stop when she'd asked him earlier if he'd sired progeny. She knew exactly what he was. A violent man with the temper of a caged animal;and the two of them together attracted more trouble than flies to honey. He didn't mind kids, but she doubted he'd ever thought about being father.

Ever.

For now though, her family was as whole as it was going to get. Mal had moved on to barking orders through the shipwide and Kaylee was screeching in Mandarin down in the engine room as something popped loose. River eased back on the throttle as they leveled out and felt Riddick turn his ear to the hatch, listening to the little mechanic struggle with the levers and gears. He was straightening, one hand on her shoulder, when River heard Jayne's mental grumbling and the stomp of his boots down the hall as he went to help. She gave the man at her back a mental nudge, glanced over to where Mal was watching Riddick with speculation in his eyes, and went back to her work. She wondered vaguely when the initial shock would wear off and the prying of the crew would start. It was inevitable as the turning of time that Riddick would start to feel confined at that point and lose his temper in spectacular fashion. Then the real scrutiny would start. She hoped they'd all come out of it in one piece.

They were docked before she had a chance to pay much more attention to anything but the ship and Kaylee's yelling. She felt Riddick's interest as she yelled back down the woman and the Captain's wry humor, but they were distant concerns compared with the finicky process of putting the ship down in a slip the relative size of an ox to a mule. Riddick's hands tightened on the back of her chair, and the jaguar left off its surveillance of Mal to come up next to the man, hackles raised in alarm. She ignored them all.

:: Landings on this boat always that tight girl?:: Riddick's face was calm when she turned around, but she knew he was having flashbacks to another ship and a docking pilot that couldn't get the nose up. She set her hand on the jaguar's head and stood, feeling skin brush skin as she straightened and stretched. His mind warmed, and she felt the heat coming off him as he watched her. Mal's mind was giving off revulsion and worry as he turned away and Riddick's lip curled as he caught the scent on the air.

River sighed to herself. Two dominant males, both with a different claim to her. If she hadn't been so certain of the outcome she might have contrived to throw them in a hold and let them fight it out barehanded. But that would leave the ship without a Captain and a very large gap in the crew. Two things she really didn't want. Better to just leave them be and pray that Riddick didn't decide that her Captain needed a few extra holes in his body.

Slipping under the arm he'd anchored back to the ceiling, River laid her head on Riddick's chest and listened to his heart beat and his breath as she grinned at her Captain. "Haven't lost the touch. Was taught very well thank you." It was meant for both of them, and curiosity and testosterone flooded the air as the two men eyed each other, then her.

Mal shrugged. "Never said you weren't. Now, get on down to the bunk. 'Nara and Simon found your things for planetside. Got to resupply the infirmary at least. And let the Doc look at those feet before you go walk'n too much."

River nodded and headed for the door, pausing to lay a hand on Mal's shoulder before she passed him. "She picks the next planet though Captain. You must trust her on this."

He reached up and patted her hand as he sighed. She could feel his resignation and fear of what she'd brought on them this time as a deep pull on the consciousness. She was sorry for it, but all she knew to do was to try and fix the problem. Unfortunately, she wasn't sure if there was any real solution. The war had started again, after Miranda. The Alliance denied it, calling the growing unrest the product of terrorists and isolated groups. Slow, implacable, a thing of raids and bombings scattered over the stars instead of battles and mass casualties. It was there for those with eyes to see, gaining a little more momentum with every year. And every year, it was harder and harder to step around it; to avoid old friends and even older enemies.

Riddick came to stand behind her and laid a hand at the base of her spine, pushing curiosity and his version of worry in her direction. ::River?:: Even in her mind his voice was a comforting rumble, and he could put so much into a single word. Colors and textures danced around the edge of it, warmed as they were by the fire he held deep inside.

She leaned back against his hand, felt the Captain watching carefully, and sighed. "So many apologies Captain. Wars are near impossible to stop."

He stiffened, eyes going hard and jaw set. Anger and fear and sadness burst from him like a small supernova and River flinched under the onslaught as she clawed her way into Riddick's tree and let the jaguar lay its head on her knee. Riddick was looking from one to the other, and she knew he was fitting this conversation in with others she'd had, building a picture of the world around them and the man in front of them. There was really only one logical conclusion, but he wasn't looking for that so much as he was looking for a read of the Captain's character. And a way out if need be. Always had to have the way out.

::But not from you.::

She hadn't realized he'd caught that last thought, and giggled at his stupidity. ::Know that. She has learned. She is stuck with him, and he with her. And the universe shall burn before we are taken from each other.::

::Don't you forget it,:: he growled, before dropping a kiss at the base of her neck and giving her a shove towards the door.

She could feel her Captain's wonder and slight queasiness before he clamped a lid on his feelings. His curiosity about their behavior as he tried to make sense of it was all that leaked through. He was remembering how to block, not that he'd ever been much good at it.

She was halfway out the hatch when he called "Get your brother to look at those feet first," before fixing his attention on the big man in front of him.

Jayne was on his way into the bridge as she left, and he dropped a hand on her shoulder so he could turn her to face him before she made it all the way past him. A quick searching look, for new bruises and signs of true abuse, and he nodded before giving her a little shake and moving on. She grinned at his back, caught Riddick's goggled gaze, and held back a laugh as she continued on her way.

They thought they had him cornered. They'd be trying, in little subtle ways, without even realizing it, to assert their prior claim on her affections as sister or daughter. Little did they know that the Alpha had no _need_ for those games. Who would, if they were always going to come out on top of the pack? Why should he worry? He knew what he could do and who she would choose.

He'd play his own games, making them think he was responding to their prodding and taunts. And all the while, he'd be learning a little more, getting increasingly interesting reactions from them. She sent her amusement his way as the other two began their posturing, using the excuse of planning planetside chores as their cover. He sent back a mental image of a cat with a toy back at her and she was still laughing as she dropping into her old bunk.

Inara and Simon were there, a variety of boxes on the bed and nervousness seeping out their pores. She shook her head at them and moved to take the round hatbox from Inara. "You plan to threaten her," she said quietly. "Try to scare the girl with talk about children and consequences." The two stiffened, but she continued, opening the box to reveal an assortment of options. How long had Inara been holding on to these? She poked at a foil wrapped object and drew it out to wave in their faces. "She can tell you now, this will not be acceptable. He will refuse such and so will she."

Jaws flapped. Faces turned colors and mental images bloomed. She whimpered and hunched her shoulders against the denial in her brother's mind. Inara was less painful. This was still her job, just a different aspect of it after all; and she really was happy that the girl had found someone who saw her for who she was. She just worried that the long term consequences hadn't been considered for this aspect of their relationship. And she was right to be concerned.

Warm fur rubbed against her hand and she took a breath and buried her fingers in his ruff. "She knows the possibilities. Had meant to ask about options." She poked at something else, a little box of pills. "She bleeds now anyways. Not an issue for a few more days."

That had been a trick in and of itself; getting her Captain and Riddick up into the bridge without her so she could take care of her disobedient body. She'd finally resorted to stomping her foot as they reached her old bunk, pointing at the hatch down the hall, and glaring at Riddick while she told the Captain flat out that if he didn't want to let her out of his sight that was fine, but she was on her menses and needed to find the head.

She wished she'd had a stopwatch. He must have broken the sound barrier on his way past her, but the boom was lost in the ringing of his boots on the deck. Riddick had laughed, brushed a hand over her shoulder and down her spine, shoved a few mental images at her of the ways they could torture the Captain once she was done bleeding, and stalked off after him on cat feet. She didn't think it had sunk in for him yet, how much of a struggle these next few days would be.

She blocked the thought before it could trickle over to him.

River shook the memory from her head and focused on the two in front of her. Inara had calmed somewhat, and while the thought of the big ex-convict with River was still making her a bit nervous in some ways, her first instinctual actions after Riddick had gone after Simon already proved which side she'd come down on with. Her brother, on the other hand, was warring between the Doctor and the _ge ge_ and not making much headway on either side.

"Simon," she said, setting the box aside. "It is done. You cannot separate us. Please," she laid her hands on his face and did her best to project calm at him. It sometimes worked, even with those who didn't have an inner animal to help transmit. "Please be happy for your _mei mei_. She had found someone who matches her in every way. There are many fine bodies in the Universe, but his mind," she paused and searched for words. "His mind is a still pool in the forest. Calm and cool and inviting. Was her anchor against the Painwalker's screams. All unknowing, he kept me sane. Even," her lips twisted wryly as she braced herself for the reaction. "Even when he was planning ways to kill me and take his freedom."

Simon stiffened and rage poured off him. Fear and lesser anger seeped past Inara's mask, and she could feel them both calculating the various ways and means their professions had given them when it came to murder. She flinched. It was too much, too close, and even braced as she'd been she still couldn't handle the full brunt of it. She felt Riddick's attention in her mind, turning from an argument Jayne was having with the Captain over Kyra and towards her.

He was three feet out of the bridge and down the hall before either of the other two had noticed he was gone. She reached towards him, trying to block the transmission of what Inara and Simon were still giving off, and the jaguar landed at her feet in the dust among the roots at the base of the tree just as she heard his boot on the hatch to the bunk. She gasped, dropped, let the animal wrap itself around her, and tried to find her voice.

"F-fine," she called up, ignoring the stares and sudden fear of the other two in the room as best she could. "Just couldn't brace well enough."

There was a pause as she heard Mal and Jayne asking what was wrong, a wordless caress of calm in her mind, and he turned away from the hatch. The jaguar stayed with her though, and she basked in its warmth as she glared at her brother and her friend. "_Wu de tyen ahI_" She hissed. "He can hear you! Do you truly wish to sign your own death warrants? Right now, on this boat, there is only _one_ person he will not kill if you make yourselves a threat and neither of you are it. Do not poke at the hungry wolf before he's decided to become part of the pack!"

There were needles in Simon's mind now. Doubts as to her stability; and she groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Simon," she moaned. "She is sane. As sane as she'll ever be. Listen to her warnings please. The girl is not just a sister any more. Not a daughter. She is the match, the other half of a puzzle. Take one away now and the other will be broken beyond all repair. Regression." She lifted her head to meet his eyes. She knew Riddick could hear her in his mind and through the hull and curled herself tighter into the embrace of the jaguar as she readied herself for what came next.

She hated to expose weakness like this, but her brother _must _understand the death he was courting. She sent out contrition and explanations of intent to the listening man while she spoke out loud for the others to hear. "For the Riddick, instinct and reflex would come to the fore. All will die; the ship painted in blood. He will revel in it and look for more. And if there is breath left in her body, if the girl has a shred of consciousness left in her after you try to break them apart, she will let him." Fear was rolling off of her brother in waves, but the needles were gone. "She will help him."

The two looked at each other, then at River, and Simon sighed. "River, I-"

She shook her head and blocked them out as best she could. "Enough _ge ge_. What's said has been said, and it needed saying. Now," she poked at the box again and tried to hide her revulsion at the necessity of her next words. "Are shots a possibility? With the hormones in her system being what they are? Pills require regularity in their taking, and that cannot always be found on _Serenity_."

Simon snorted, Inara hid a laugh behind her hands, and just like that the two of them decided that whatever else they might think about the situation and Riddick's unpredictabilities, _Serenity's_ were far worse on a daily basis. She let them have the illusion and prayed that her match would decide to graft himself in to the crew before they got themselves killed.

~HHYFN~

Riddick leaned against the railing of the catwalk and tried not to fume. He knew the logic in the decision that had been made. He could even agree with it. But it didn't make him any happier. He just couldn't figure out which part pissed him off more. The fact that it was the right choice, or the fact that it had been the Captain who'd given him the order. Not a suggestion. Not a request, for all it had been phrased that way. He knew what an order was, given enough of them himself and been on the receiving end of far more. It helped, a bit, that the man had been dead serious when he'd talked. Not mocking, not condescending. It was plain and simple. Stay on the boat, out of sight of scans and cameras. Let River go off with her brother and the Companion. With only Zoe to keep an eye on them.

It stank of trouble, and the tightly controlled uneasiness that had been rolling off the man hadn't helped. He'd wanted to argue. To ask them what their plan was if some random vid screen triggered River again. She'd cut through them like plasma through steel and move on to the next target while they were still realizing that they were bleeding out in the street.

River had poked her nose in then, figuratively at least. Physically she was still in her old bunk, getting changed into something she could wear planetside. The Doc had left her, still smelling of doubt, fear, and determination. Riddick knew that his eventual confrontation with the boy was more likely to involve threats of slow death than any sort of agreement on either side. But that was an issue for later. He had the one in front of him to deal with. The issue of how he was going to keep from sticking a shiv in the ribs of the Captain, of how he was going to keep his cool when River left the ship.

Over a month now, since he'd knocked her out in that merc ship and she'd woken screaming on the Destroyer. A month in which they'd practically been living in each other's hip pockets. A month in which he'd kept track of her heart beat, her breathing, and her scents; all with a dedication that landed firmly in the "Obsessive" category of behaviors. The amount of time that they'd been living inside each other's heads was less than that, but still…The thought of having her out of ear shot, leaving only lingering residuals instead of fresh scent in his nostrils, it was making his skin crawl.

He fucking hated it.

::Stupid,:: her voice was mocking inside his head, and a small hand slipped into the crook of the man's elbow where he crouched by the stream and stared back at the cave that the animal had retreated to. ::Still in each other's heads. She will be back soon.:: Her voice changed, wincing in pain, and he pushed at her till she let him see Simon peeling the bandages from her feet. They were mostly healed, but her brother was speaking in doctor terms about staying off of them and being careful of blisters on the new skin and of not wanting her to twist an ankle. She wasn't letting him see the rest of her, just the feet, and he wondered at that. Another prod only earned him a mental ringing in his ears as she slammed down a wall between her visual centers and his.

::He will see soon enough,:: she laughed as he growled. Down in the cargo bay Jayne yanked his head up to stare and the little mechanic twitched and looked to the gun hand for reassurance. Riddick met the man's eyes and didn't bother to hide his scowl. That was another one he'd be having words with. For many different reasons.

River sighed in his head. ::No worries. You will be entertained while she is gone. Captain plans to see if you will help shift cargo in one of the holds. The weapons lockers are there and the blades have been stashed away from little fingers. ::

She was trying to appease him and fuck if it wasn't working. He lifted a lip as he listened to her giggle and the Doc's resigned sigh down in the infirmary. Footsteps on metal drew his attention, and he looked over to see the first mate coming out of the hatch that led from the bridge to the catwalk. She flicked a look his way, set her daughter down with a pat on the rump and an order to go say goodbye to Jayne and Kaylee, and headed in his direction. She didn't bother to quiet her feet, but he had a feeling that she knew how to be silent when it was called for. River shifted in his head, gave him an image of the woman surrounded by a pile of bodies with slit throats, and went back to arguing with her brother about slippers as versus half boots.

"There gonna be a ship left when we come back?" Zoe propped her elbows up on the rail and watched her daughter down below. At least this one seemed to have some idea as to the danger he represented. The shock was wearing off, for him at least, and he was pretty well done with being the center of attention for a while. Time to see just what is was they'd landed in. This woman, for all her care for River and the fact that she hadn't batted an eye about the two of them sharing quarters, she was one to watch. He had no doubt that the minute she thought he'd become a true threat to the wellbeing of her daughter or any of the rest of the crew, River included, she'd set herself to one task: Killing him. It was almost a comfort, knowing someone on this boat had their head on straight.

On the deck below, Jayne pulled the kid off the cargo hauler she was clinging to and swung her up in the air. The girl wailed a protest that turned into a riot of giggles when the mechanic caught her and set fingers to ribs before dropping her well out of the way of the machine's backdraft. Riddick twisted to watch as the two clambered aboard and headed out. Jayne had his head tipped back, looking first at the little girl and then up at Riddick and Zoe before they made a turn and were lost from sight.

"Momma, momma, momma!" Sierra came pounding up the stairs and launched herself at her mother, who caught her with the ease of long practice. As if suddenly realizing who else was on the catwalk, she blinked at Riddick and stuck a finger in her mouth. He wasn't fooled. There wasn't a shy bone in this girl's body, and nothing in her scent told him to expect anything but what happened next. She grinned at him and reached with both hands. He twitched out of range and eyed them carefully. Slobber, residual sugar, and soap from what must have been someone's attempt to get her cleaned up.

Zoe's eyes were dancing as she grabbed for the back of her daughter's shirt, and he caught a draft of mischief half a second before action and thought unified. The little girl gave an extra lunge and toppled right over with a yelp. Riddick found himself holding her by the back of the shirt without even knowing he'd reached to catch her. She giggled and he shot Zoe a look as the smirking woman took her daughter back. "Someone's been teaching you bad manners," she said, tapping the kid on the nose. "And giving you candy. Who?"

He knew who. And he thought he might know why. Amusement warred with dread warred with interest as he watched Sierra lean up to cup a sticky hand to her mother's ear and attempt to whisper "River." He fought the twist of his lips as Zoe shook her head and tried to detangle her hair from the hand it was stuck to.

She caught his gaze through the goggles and sighed. "Suspect you've gotten used to her tricks by now. Or I hope ya have. Girl can be five kinds of cunning when she feels like it." She set her daughter down and told her to go find the Captain and _stay on the ship_ before going back to leaning on the rail. "I come back and find a bloodbath though, you're gonna wish it were River and her pranks you had to deal with." Determination and steel mixed with gun oil, leather, and sugar as she looked at him. That was a poker face to be proud of, and he felt his respect for the woman increase just a notch. He could take her. They both knew it, but that wasn't the point of this conversation. The Captain and Jayne had tried their dominance games with him and he'd played along for the fun of it. This was a woman who had no need for posturing and puffing herself up. She'd do what she set out to do, and if she decided he needed killing then she'd move heaven and earth to bring it to pass.

Suddenly, he didn't feel as on edge about River going out with just her brother and the Companion if this was the caliber of warrior going with them. Between the two, the others would be well protected if trouble started.

River shifted in the back of his mind, anticipation mixed with wary expectation floating to the surface of what he could see and feel, and he heard her brother's feet as they stepped into the cargo bay below. Riddick turned to look down as they passed beneath the catwalk, wondering what might have sparked that particular mix of emotions. He couldn't smell her from up here, but her heart rate was elevated, and she was trying to control it with her breathing. Zoe was grinning next to him, and anticipation rose in her scent. It bloomed to outright pride and amusement as River stepped into full view.

She twisted in his mind as surprise shorted out the man and the animal both. Disbelief warred with outrage warred with pure and unadulterated lust. He cursed, both in the physical and the mental, and she twitched where she stood, on arm hooked through her brother's. The Doc was looking up at them, but she'd kept her face set forward.

Avoiding him.

Like that would ever work.

He left the railing and headed for the stairs. Zoe had straightened, hooked her fingers in her belt, and was watching him with a blank face as she closed down her emotions. He caught a draft of deep sorrow before he was out of range, but he was more focused on River anyways. His ears told him that Sierra had found the Captain, and was dragging him through the common room near the infirmary to come "See River be pretty."

He tuned them out as well.

He had one focus, both in body and in mind, and she was trying to hide from both. The weapon had placed herself in front of the jaguar as it hissed, and the girl was taking slow careful steps away from the man as he backed her into the stream. Anger and frustration and lust were seeping from her like oil, and he could smell a riot of vanilla and steel, mint and cedar blooming in the air around her. He gained the deck and paced towards her, eyes roving. The Doc's increasing heartbeat and no small amount of fear mixed with determination were shoved back into a corner of his mind to be monitored but otherwise forgotten. The man was no threat. Not really.

The girl on the other hand…

Her hands were barely visible, gleaming golden nails peeking out from layers after layers of hyper saturated blue gauze sandwiched between brown and gold. Little green crystals were woven into a metallic netting of some sort that hung in squares and swatches over and under the squares of fabric. He realized she was feeding him the colors, bypassing his optic nerves and the purpled grayscale he'd be seeing her in otherwise. The animal rumbled out a purr as the man surveyed the woman standing ankle deep in the streambed. She was made of blades, her jaw set, her eyes on the tree he had herded her away from, and any second now she was going to lose it.

Tiny bells sewn into the hemlines of the swathes of fabric tinkled as she shuddered in place, and the band holding the veils over her hair shimmered as light from outside caught the crystals set there and set them on fire. Dark eyes rimmed in kohl and some sort of shimmering powder snapped over the fabric that was only making a token effort to hide the lower half of her face, and he could see her lips thinning as she settled her weight onto the balls of her feet. Steel came out on top, matched only by the cedar oil he knew had been dotted at neck and wrist and down in her center to cover the old blood that still weeped from her there.

The doc was saying something in a deliberately calm voice, although Riddick couldn't tell which of them it was aimed at. Mal had Sierra locked in his arms and she was protesting at the top of her lungs, wanting to go say goodbye to Pretty River. Steel and gun oil ghosted up behind him, and River let him know that Zoe's holster was still snapped shut, short barreled shotgun safely in place. He placed them all in his mental map, but focused on the girl who stood in front of him wrapped in enough layers of near transparent fabric that he could have built a tent from the outfit. She'd lost the argument about footwear and was wearing the half boots instead of slippers. They were soft, leather, and embroidered with metallic thread that caught the light and drew the eye. A wide band of stiff brown fabric embroidered in blue and gold covered her from breastbone to hip, but it was the only concession to practicality or decency that he could see.

The planet itself moved, just enough to let the sun glare directly into the cargo bay, and his brain came alive as she lit up like a small sun. He could see her through all the gauze, slim form solid against the glowing fabric. The animal clawed at the man, shoving him down in the stream so that the girl could sprint past him and make it to the safety of the tree. Riddick realized he was rumbling, knew his dick was hard as a rock and everyone could tell, but he didn't care. This girl, this woman, was about to go out into a planet full of who knew what kind of people dressed in the social equivalent of raptor bait. They may as well chop her up and drag her behind the ship for all the attention she'd be getting from those who hunted her.

The urge to throw her over his shoulder and drag her back to their shuttle was almost overwhelming. He might have done it too, had one hand on her arm even, when she lifted her chin and glared. "_Bi zuie! Wang bao dahn!_" She stepped back and shoved the man in the river again, and Riddick stopped himself mid-grab to glare at her. Emotions washed over him, not just scents, but the actual feelings. Her anger, the worry of her brother, cold dread from Mal, the certainty of Zoe.

A knowledge, planted like a seed and watered to fruition, bloomed in his mind. She'd done this before. Many times. He even had a vague recollection of her having mentioned something to the effect at one point. Not in any detail. No detail could have prepared him for this. She shoved the awareness his way. What he was looking at was a different kind of camouflage. The kind that turned attention by drawing the eye to something that was clearly not what the mind was expecting. She was bait all right, the sort meant to catch men and ensnare them, not the kind that resisted authorities and killed people in dirty little slum bars.

The man rose from the river and shook himself off, glaring halfheartedly at the girl still on the bank. The animal was leaning against her leg, and she had a hand buried in the fur between its shoulders. She offered him a wry smile as he stalked towards her, and didn't complain when the hand that was still on her arm in the physical moved so it could turn her around. The Doc still stank of unease and the almost-fear of a person who's fight or flight instincts were at war; but the heartbeats of the rest of the crew in the bay had slowed somewhat.

Riddick tilted his head and eyed River up and down as he let her stop turning and paced around her instead. She followed him with her eyes, still glaring, He came to a halt in front of her and gripped her shoulder as gently as he knew how before taking careful hold of the lower veil and pulling it down past her nose and chin. Her tongue flickered out over glossed lips, and his heart roared in his ears, drowning out the embarrassed mutters of the men around him and the giggle of the little girl as he covered her mouth with his. Just for a moment, just until she started truly leaning into him, and he pulled away to whisper in her ear. "Still say you'll get yourself killed in that getup. First thing they'll do is strangle you with the veils."

A small fist impacted on his ribs and she snapped her teeth at his ear. Vanilla and steel now in equal measures, and he drank it in like a drug to store up in his mind until she made it back. Riddick chuckled and backed off, letting Zoe move forward and Simon to hook his sister's arm through his own. The first mate gave the ex-convict an unreadable look to match her unreadable scent before placing a hand on the girl's back and turning her towards the starboard side stairway. Incense curled into his nose and he looked up to see Inara leaning over the catwalk, amusement only barely covered by worry as she watched her charge climb the stairs.

Mal was speaking, and the little girl tugging at his pants, but he had eyes only for the form of his other half as she slipped out of the burning sunlight and into the shadows. He had ears only for her laughter as she replied to Zoe's muttered, "Men," with a burst of near hysterical giggles.

The man and the jaguar stretched, reaching for her mind before she slipped out of sight into the shuttle, and ran jaw and hand over her body in mute apology. She stopped and turned back to look at him, only her eyes and hair visible over the shoulder of her brother as he waited for her to continue, and Riddick couldn't tell if she was smiling or not when she replied, ::Later we will see who is bait and who is prey.::

And then she was gone.

~HHYFN~

**Author's Note: ** Sooo…honeymoon with the crew over? I think that, if the scene with Simon hadn't been enough, they might be starting to realize just what they've got on board. Joy!

I think there's a trope for this. For several things in this story actually, and River/Riddick stories in particular. Bond cuts, mindspeaking, and the inevitable "River Dresses Up Nice and Riddick's Brain Melts." Sorry Riddick…well, not really.

As always, love to hear from everyone! Please tell me what you think! Please?

And also, they don't belong to me. Not a bit. Not one tiny bit. Dangit.

Shenandoah 76209: I had a lot of fun with that line. But for some reason, every time I try and stick Riddick in a room with Kaylee, he runs. Or the conversation I write comes out forced and clunky. He So I have to resort to stuff like this. And no, Riddick isn't going to take all the staring very well. I hadn't thought about the Mal/Riddick Shadow thing. I don't know though. This Riddick doesn't care as much about having lost Furya as he does about Kyra and River. Just have to see… And no, I haven't forgotten about the Blue Sun having Kyra. But there's travel time, and I figured the crew needed time to get to know Riddick before throwing themselves into a small war for his sake. Still up in the air if they will either. Stubborn people.

Lizziebug: Whoo! Glad you still love it! Here's to another good day!

Rachet: Glad I'm managing to keep them in character. Hope it continues. Dunno about controlling the glow. I'm using it more as an emotional indicator here than the EMP blast. So far at least. We'll have to see.

Guineverekay: Oooh. Hurt back! No fun! Hope this brightens your day a bit. And yeah. Simon. Man just doesn't get it. And he won't for a while, unfortunately. Sierra is turning out to be my wild card. I'm drawing off of the comics some for the backstory here, and in "Those Left Behind" Zoe was pregnant with a girl. So I keep having to find things to do with her that a little girl might do, at all sorts of odd times. Like when the murderer who glows blue implies slow death for anyone with a comment :P I think he'd like her better if she wasn't trying to crawl all over him, ya know? Get better soon!

Translations:

_Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiouh doh sai-jin wuh duh pee-goo_: Everything in space stuffed up my ass

_Ge ge_: big brother

_Mei mei:_ little sister

_Wu de tyen ah:_ Dear God in heaven

_Bi zuie! Wang bao dahn: _ Shut up! Dirty bastard

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	23. Chapter 23

Ch. 23

_I feel a million miles away, still you connect me in your way_

_And you create in me something I would've never seen_

_When I could only see the floor, you made my window a door_

_So when they say they don't believe I hope that they see you in me_

"Be Somebody", Relient K

"Interesting crew you got here."

Malcom Reynolds prided himself on being a cool head in a crisis. Calm when the need called for it. He'd lived through a lot that would have, and in many cases, _had_ caused others to panic and run. So when he heard a voice like sin rumble its way through the air around him with no prior indication that someone had joined him in the hold, he did what any proper Captain with his life experience would do.

He yelled in alarm, his voice cracking halfway through, and spun around. Dark goggles glinted in the light, and caramel skin gleamed. A smirk was tugging at the other man's face, and even though his arms were folded, Mal had no illusions about how far he'd get if he tried to run. He was reminded of a mountain lion, waiting for its prey to pass under a tree or embankment so it could drop down and snap its neck. He fought to catch his breath, and checked reflexively for Sierra. She was where he'd left her penned in a ring of crates, a makeshift doll sitting forgotten in one hand as she stared at Riddick. The big man looked down at her and raised an eyebrow when she lifted her arms and demanded to be picked up. When he glanced back to Mal, the Captain shook his head. "Can't figure what's wrong with you kid. Ain't got near half you're momma's self-preservation instincts."

She pouted at him and crossed her arms, and Mal got his second big surprise of the hour when Riddick laughed, a dark sound that spoke of danger and death, and crouched down so he was on her level. "Should listen kid. Trust like that can get you killed."

She frowned at him and stamped her foot. "River likes you. Can't be bad."

Mal was surprised to see something in the man's face tighten before he straightened and looked his way. It was hard to read expressions with those goggles on, but if he'd had to take a shot at, the former soldier would have said it was regret and disbelief he saw there. He didn't get a chance to confirm his guess, because Riddick had gone right back to smirking. "Lotta trust you people put in that girl." He tilted his head and looked sideways at the cabinet set just inside the door. Mal found his fingers stretching for his gun on reflex when the other man reached for on the handles and pulled. How had he…?

"Makes me wonder though." Riddick had lifted out a leather harness with a set of incredibly strange blades strapped into it, the same harness in fact, that Jayne had taken off the man before they'd cuffed him up. Everything in his posture spoke of confidence and the surety that in the time it would take to clear the gun from its holster, he could do more far more damage to those around him than Mal could ever dream of. The Captain had a flashback, just a small one, to earlier in the day when Jayne had come in his role as devil's advocate and asked why they should get themselves kilt over the corpse of a girl none of them had known. The man hadn't reacted much then, other than a tightening of the jaw. They hadn't gotten around to any sort of verbal response either, because he'd straightened abruptly, loped out of the bridge, and gone to kick at the hatch of River's old bunk. Creepify'n didn't being to cover it.

Mal frowned, realizing Riddick was waiting for him to say something. He didn't like it, the way the man drew a conversation out. Almost as bad as when he seemed to be having words with River in his head that then spilled out of their mouths. But Mal knew he wasn't going to win this round. It had been written on the wall long ago that whoever River decided was good enough for her was going turn out to be a colossal pain in his arse and just as cryptic to boot.

Sighing, he turned back to the crates he was trying to get untied. "Makes ya wonder what 'xactly?"

"You see her hand? The right one?"

What the gorram hell was that supposed to mean? "No," Mal said shortly, and yanked open a metal clip. "Was more interested in the ruttin' gash down her arm."

There was a scrape and a thud and Mal turned to see Riddick shifting one of the loose crates out of his way and onto one of the ones that formed Sierra's designated safety zone. The girl yelped in protest. The big man ignored her. "Bit it bloody, night she found you people. Scared out of her mind for a week of coming home." The man's voice wasn't hard. There was, in fact, almost a gentleness to it. Mal checked the gun in his holster on reflex. "Gun won't help you. Bullets are fast sure, but I can drop you before it clears leather." Goggled eyes were boring into blue now, and Mal realized that the weapons locker had been emptied of all Riddick's personal effects. They were now strapped and sheathed and hidden all over his body.

Wide nostrils flared and Riddick took a step closer. "So I've been wondering. Why the sudden trust? Every one of you was ready to lock her up or put her down when you found her." Inches separated them now, and the Captain told himself that fear was fine, it was running that made you a coward. "What changed?"

Mal wanted to sit. But that would be giving way and he was the Captain of the gorram boat and the hell if he'd give this s_hiong-muh duh duang-ren_ an inch he didn't have to. The face in front of him twitched slightly and he wondered briefly if Riddick had been about to smile. But there were more important matters at hand, like little pitchers with big ears and a question that, if not answered right, could end up meaning his life. "Zoe," he said finally, stepping sideways and away and forcing confidence into his voice. "I'm guess'n River told you some of what life's been like for her?"  
"A bit." Riddick crossed his arms and leaned against the stack of crates, every line in his body speaking of his willingness to outwait the Captain. Mal shuddered, glad that River wasn't around to catch the turmoil of doubt and wariness currently churning through his head.

"Anyways, she said something, day we found you all. 'Bout River maybe not wanting to come back." Mal shrugged and made sure the weapons locker was good and sealed before turning back around. Sierra had gone back to playing with her doll, thank goodness, and was having an invisible tea party. It was impossible to tell where Riddick's eyes were directed, but something about the set of his shoulders told Mal that his attention was at least partially on the girl. "Got me think'n," Mal said to cover his nervousness. There hadn't been violence so far, but that could change. The man oozed it. "Figured we find her, whole and mostly sane, we take her at her word. Find her raving…" he shrugged and crossed his arms. "Things might have gone a different way."

"You found her deadly." Riddick's voice gave nothing away. "Found her surrounded by bodies, trying to kill me." He straightened where he stood and pulled one of those curved blades from the sheath at his back and started running his thumb along the straight edge, turning it this way and that as if looking for the dulls spots. "Know your first mate had at least one shot at either of us. Why didn't you have her take it?"

Mal shrugged. He didn't have a straightforward answer for that. "Knew a man once," he said to give himself time to think. "A Shepherd. Couldn't get him to shut up about God to save my life." Riddick snorted and Mal raised an eyebrow as he took up post in the door and looked out into the bay. He knew this game. Played it often enough with Jayne. Give the man his back and see what would happen. Show confidence and act like he didn't care he could get stabbed in the back, literally in this case. There was also the fact that he didn't want anyone reading his face when he talked on his old friend. "Left the boat, went to go tend a flock on Haven." A shift behind him, and even Sierra had gone silent.

"Took us in from time to time after a job. After the first time those _huh choo-shung tza-jiao duh tzang-huo_ triggered our girl. Told me something then. Thought he was talking on God at first." Mal turned in the door to see Riddick frowning and Sierra's big brown eyes staring. He hated this story. Hated to tell it. But every so often a wound needed to be lanced open. "Talked on belief. How it'd get me through what was coming. Told me that whatever River said, I should listen. Should believe." The Captain ran a hand through his hair and stared at his feet. "He saw something in her. Knew something about her I don't think any a' the rest of us coulda figured on."

"So what, you remember that now, when the first time she wanted get herself healed up she had to steal a shuttle and go into hiding?" Riddick's voice was all kinds of unimpressed. He turned that strange blade over in his hands again, then took a firm grip on its handle.

"Look," Mal straightened, just about done with the games. "Say what you came to say. Or kill me. Your choice. You want to rub mistakes in my face, go right ahead! But she's back now, Doc hasn't gone near her with a needle and neither _one_ of you are in chains!" Riddick was growling, but Mal had had enough. This was his ship, his crew to take care of, and if this man was willing to fall into that category for River's sake then _fine_. But it didn't mean he got to judge; and it sure as hell didn't mean Mal had to take it.

Riddick stilled, and light glinted off the edge of the blade he held in one hand. The other was clenched in a fist big enough to rival Jayne's. For one panicked moment, the Captain almost thought he was about to see what his own insides looked like, and all he could think was that he hoped Sierra's presence would stop the man, that he wouldn't kill in front of her. He seemed to like kids well enough after all.

Something shifted in the big man's stance then, and he tilted his head to one side as if he could tell what Mal was thinking. A heartbeat, and then another, and Riddick pushed himself upright and slipped his mutated knife back into its harness. "You ever consider chaining her again," he rumbled. "You ever let her brother near her with those drugs again, you'll see just what kind of animal I am." He turned to look at the stack of crates Mal hadn't manage to get completely unstrapped. "Now what are you looking for in here? Or is it just rebalancing cargo?"

Mal blinked, snapped his jaw shut, and glared at the giggling little girl that was crawling over the crates that had formed her play area. Riddick turned to snatch her out of midair when she launched herself at him, set her back down in her designated safe zone, and looked over at the Captain.

"Need to get to some of River's stuff. Boxed all her weapons up out of the Little Bit's reach. Don't fit too well in the locker." He stepped forward to get the last strap undone, ignoring the way Riddick hulked next to him, and started hauling the boxes down. "Speaking of which, Sierra you get on down to the bay." He could hear the outer doors opening and it was better to have her under Jayne's feet than his anyways. "Sounds like Jayne and Kaylee are back. Go pester them a bit why doncha."

The little girl stamped her foot, stuck out her tongue, and ran out of the room. Mal sighed and went to go yell after her. "And you give anyone any more lip, you won't get dessert for a week!" Behind him, he could hear Riddick laughing, and the Captain growled. No respect. None. Whatsoever.

~HHYFN~

It would be a few more hours before the shuttle returned, and Riddick used the time to get to know the ship a little better. There were enough smuggler's holes and hideaways to satisfy the worst of paranoid pack rats, and the whole place was imbedded with the smells of her crew. River had been right. The engine room reeked not only of grease and metal and old oil, but layers of sex and the Doc. Kaylee had given him an odd look when he poked his head in and the young woman had tried to start a conversation, but he'd been left before she'd gotten two words out of her mouth. Woman was nosey.

The galley had been tidied up at some point, probably while he and River had been drifting in each other's minds, and he almost went hunting for something to eat before deciding that food could wait. They probably kept a tally of it anyways and he wasn't getting shot or kicked off the ship over food. River yes. Food just wasn't worth the trouble, not when he could wait. Besides, all the labels were in Chinese.

Jayne wandered through while he stood there, trying to decide if he should go poking through River's old bunk or up to the bridge to get a better look at the controls. Neither course of action would probably win him any points, but it was better to be hated and familiar with his surroundings than to play it safe. Never knew what he'd need after all.

"Here," the hired gun had stepped carefully around the ex-convict and into what had been his holding cell. Turned out it was a pantry. He came out with a basket of rolls and a can of something Riddick still couldn't read the label on. Shrugging, Jayne had shoved them in his direction and stalked over to the galley proper. "Got kitchen rights. So long as you don't eat ever'thing in sight and leave enough so we'll make it to the next port. Missed a few meals 'tween here and Persephone." He tossed something over the counter and Riddick caught it on his elbow and bounced it into the basket of rolls. The other man whistled and grinned. Riddick frowned. The man's base scent hadn't changed any, but he was catching approval and confidence instead of the anger and wariness that had been present when he'd gotten back to the ship. The Captain must have summed up their conversation for the man somewhere either loud or out of earshot while he'd gotten River's weapons stashed in the shuttle and started his walk around the ship. Odd though, how the hired gun seemed to have taken it. If Mal was the dog with its hackles up, Jayne was the one who'd found a pack mate. It remained to be seen if he'd end up willing to join this particular pack though. For one thing, he did much, much better on his own than he ever had with a bunch of probable targets gumming up the works.

That was an interesting puzzle, how the two men who to all appearances didn't trust each other still worked and moved in tandem. The whole crew did, stepping around, over and past each other as they went about their duties. And there was River, slipping in among them just as easy as a sharp blade through skin. Even more interesting how they just moved aside, folded her in, and kept on going. It didn't mean they'd stopped fearing her though and they all kept giving her wary looks when her back was turned, but for the most part she seemed to have forgiven them and moved on.

::Have to,:: her voice was faint in his head, and he could tell only half her attention was on him. ::Have _been_. For years. If the girl held every little worry and fear close to her heart for all of her days, they would not have lasted much past the arrival of the bounty hunter who thought he was a lion. She would have merged with the ship and probably opened the airlock on them all. So long as she's not overwhelmed, she can try to forget what they think without knowing it.::

And if that wasn't a visual he didn't know what was. He snorted, and Jayne gave him a sideways look before going back to the bundle he'd dumped on the table when he'd entered the room. Riddick smelled something he could only label as watchfulness as it radiated out from the gun hand. He snorted again, this time to clear his nose a bit, and set the basket and the can down on the table, a ways away from the bits of electronics the man was fiddling with.

"Don't get you people," he muttered finally, unable to keep the thought to himself and wondering what the man who'd tried to sell her would have to say on the topic. The thing Jayne had tossed at him turned out to be some sort of can opener, which he guessed was more logical than his initial plan of using a shiv to crack the thing open. "Act like you trust her, or try to. Body language says one thing. Words coming out of your mouths say something else entirely. Which is it?"

"What'd the Captain tell ya?"

Riddick wished the lights were lower so he could meet the hard eyes of the gun hand directly, not through the goggles. "Think you know," he replied and popped the top off the can he'd just cut open. It was full of peaches, floating in thin liquid that smelled of sugar and tin. He frowned and ran through his options. He had all his weapons back now. The Captain hadn't said word one about it when he'd strapped them all back on, but the scent coming off him at the time had stank of worry and barely suppressed fear. He wanted River around, or at least in range for her to get a clear bead on her crew and let him know what was going on in their minds. He could tell who felt what, but he'd come to depend on her insights as to why. And in this new place, with these new people who did everything backwards from everything he expected; all the normal reasons for this reaction and that were flying right out the window. Crippled, that's what he was without her. Not that he couldn't manage just fine, but still.

::Spoilt,:: she muttered before going back to whatever she was doing. Something about cloth and metal. He shook his head and pulled one of his smaller shivs, spearing a peach and letting as much of the syrup drip off of it as he could before taking a bite.

"See that, right there," Jayne had his knife out and a coil of half stripped copper wire in his other hand. "Damages the calm you see. Bad enough Moonbrain walks around having conversations with butterflies and the like. You do the same thing."

Not wanting to spray bits of peach and syrup everywhere, Riddick settled for raising an eyebrow and tilting his head in question as he kicked out a chair and dropped into it. Jayne shook his head and went back to stripping the plastic coating off the ends of the wire. "Girl ain't never gonna be sane. Shoulda seen her when she come on board. Throw'n things, slicing people open." He rubbed at his chest and then shook the knife in Riddick's direction. "She ain't done that in a while, but she's still creepify'n as all hell when she wants to be. Likes to confuse people in her free time, mess with your head." He stopped when Riddick chuckled and frowned. "Guess'n you've seen some 'o that."

"Cap'n told me he near went off his rocker when she headed out with Inara and Simon. And there she stood, pretty as you please, just wait'n it out."

Riddick whipped around in his chair. He'd hadn't paid much attention to the boots he'd heard in the hall and assumed that they were the Captain's. The knife Jayne had been waving in his face had called a little more of his focus. Kaylee stepped down into the room and dropped into the chair by Jayne, giving him a small smile as she took some of the stripped down wires and started sorting. Riddick raised an eyebrow, but it wasn't true fear that was coming off of her, just honest nerves. Oranges instead of raw lemons.

The gun hand laughed and handed over the last of the wires before reaching for a basket of electronic bits. "He tell you which outfit it was she went out in?"

"Blue and brown I think. One that makes her look like a fairy."

Maybe if he stayed around these people long enough he'd start to understand why they didn't fear a bloody and painful end. Maybe he'd figure out why, even through the nerves and watchfulness, they persisted in doing things like waving fresh meat at the animal and then taking it away. He growled, just to remind them he was still there, and pulled one of his bigger shivs to slice open a roll. Kaylee's eyes went huge, and Jayne's narrowed. More nerves, rippling through the air like a stone dropped in a pond. He fought a smile. Good. Better that they didn't know what he was going to do.

Jayne paused a moment, as if he was waiting to see if there'd be bloodshed, before shaking his head and going back to sorting bits out of the basket. "Still think them Companions are off their nuts, dress'n the Apprentices like that. Inara's worn some _è__rán_ (shocking/amazing) stuff, but ain't none of it been see through like some of the get up's she sticks Moonbrain in."

Amusement mixed with the lemons coming off Kaylee, and she laughed shakily before throwing a glance over at Riddick. He'd frozen, roll in pieces in his hands, and was glaring at them both. "Its custom I guess. At least that's what she told us." She was speaking to both the men now. "Flaunt the Apprentice, tease the men. But she's marked as unavailable, and the Guild's got their ways of getting back at anyone who tries something." She shrugged and turned back to Jayne. "'Nara ain't exactly a fainting flower."

Jayne shook his head. "She ain't a killer. Zo is. Simon does what has to be done need calls for it. River leaves a pile of men bloody in the street for touch'n her, where you think it'll lead back to? Them fancy whores in the Guild ain't gonna speak for someone ain't really one o' theirs?"

Kaylee sighed and dropped the wires. "Jayne Cobb you are the most pessimistic person in existence. Been years they gone out like this. Aint noth'n happened yet."

"Yet," Riddick muttered. He agreed with the gun hand. The whole situation was just asking for trouble. In his head, River shifted slightly, and the feeling was odd, as if she was standing in the far distance instead of near the tree and the stream where she belonged. He pushed towards her, looking for a read of what was going on; what he got was bright lights, jewel toned fabrics, and the phrase "for six months" before she rose in front of him with pleading eyes and begged that he let her be for a moment.

There was something in the eyes of the girl as she pushed at the man's back, something like anxiety mixed with anger. His animal growled and came forward to sit by her feet and glare up at her. She left off trying to push him away and stomped her foot instead. ::Please! She is trying to concentrate. Options must be gone over, reviewed, studied. She will explain when she returns!:: He caught one last impression of an inlaid box filled with an assortment of unrecognizable objects before he lost his grip on her mind. The man grumbled, the animal huffed and flopped down in the dirt in disgust, and he looked up to find Jayne and Kaylee staring at him. Fear and anticipation and mistrust roiled through the room, and he took a deep breath, letting the familiar smells trickle through him to his animal. This was how people usually smelled around him. This was the norm. Not always comfortable to his senses, less and less so since River had hooked herself into his brain, they were easier to deal with than other things he could name, like blind faith. That one crawled up his spine and settled behind his eyes like a nest of bees, and even the hints and drifts of it that this bunch had been giving off was starting to make him want to cut out every one of their hearts and start looking for whatever defect it was that made them all so stupid where he was concerned.

A fresh wave of lemons rolled off Kaylee, and her eyes were as big as dinner plates. Jayne had tensed, knife in one hand and the other down at his hip. Riddick heard the snap of the holster there being opened. A burning in his hand made him look down, and he realized he was gripping his own blade in both hands and blood was dripping down onto the surface of the table in rhythmic little plops, not quite in time with his heart. Another thing that was off. It should never be racing like it was now. That was for prey. He was predator. A snarl rippled out of his lips and filled the air around him, the familiar noise a comfort against the suddenly indrawn breaths of the others. Fucking idiots.

A scrape of boot over metal drew his eye to the hatch that led to the bridge, and Malcom Reynolds watched him through hard eyes. "Gonna want the Doc to look at that when he gets back." Resolve filtered through the air towards his nose, mixed with no small amount of anger. The man's hand was resting on his gun, but he saw Jayne relax out of the corner of his eye and Kaylee lost a little of her fear. This Captain was a cool one, when need called for it.

He could see it now. Up and throw and the Captain would be down. Stay moving so the hired gun couldn't just draw and shoot him from under the table. Get Kaylee between him and the line of fire. She'd either get shot or Jayne would hesitate, and that would give him time to get in range of snapping the man's neck. Grab the woman, lock her in one of the bunks, take the shuttle and go find River so they could get the fuck away from these lunatics. He was getting tired of being the new trophy up on display, and the trust they placed in her didn't keep them from treating her like an armed time bomb. Which she was. But she was his time bomb. He understood her. They didn't.

::Yes she is his,:: her voice was tinny, frantic even, and the fog in his mind shifted slightly at the sound of it. ::But he is expecting behaviors consistent with mercs, not a family!::

He growled. Out loud or in his head he didn't know. She responded with a torrent of cold water, flung at the man and animal both. It slapped at him, fine spray driving its way into his subconscious. The man yelled, the animal spat and hissed, and just like that the bloodlust was gone. He found himself standing, halfway to the hatch, with no idea of when or how he'd moved. Luckily it was at the opposite end of the room from where everyone else was sitting, or he might have had a fight on his hands anyways. But nobody tried to stop him as he spun on his heel and stalked out door and down the hall. He was just grateful the kid was off somewhere out of sight. He'd probably scare the shit out of her, just to get rid of the last of his nerves, and that would really fuck things all out of proportion.

Fucking families.

~HHYFN~

**Author's Note:** Sooo…Riddick alone with the crew. Pissed. This is good huh? Trying to show that no matter how squishy he's gone over River, he still doesn't play well with others if he doesn't feel like it. If he was top dog and in control, sure. It's all smug grins and messing with people's heads. Poor guy.

As always, they aren't mine. I'm playing in someone else's sandbox. Two sets of sandboxes actually. Lawyers lawyers go away!

Shenandoah76209: You're right. If he and Mal will ever stop prodding at each other (don't hold your breath there), they may actually find some common ground. Unfortunately, I think Riddick just screwed over whatever chance he may have had for getting along with the crew for a while. Not that I really think he cares at the moment…

Guineverekay: Awww. Bedrest is no fun! I'm rereading The Firefly Chronicles myself. And Ghost and the Darkness. Simultaneously. Gah. My brain's all confused trying to keep poetry Riddick separate from 'I'm going to put you through a wall if you don't quit nagging me' Riddick. On the dress front, check my profile. I'm going to put a link up to a sketch I slapped together.

Translations:

s_hiong-muh duh duang-ren: _violent lunatic

_huh choo-shung tza-jiao duh tzang-huo_ : animal-fucking bastard

_è __r__á__n_: shocking/amazing

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	24. Chapter 24

Ch. 24

_I feel insane every single time_

_I'm asked to compromise_

_Cause I'm afraid and stuck in my ways_

_And that's the way it stays_

_So how long did I expect love to outweigh ignorance?_

_By that look on your face I may have forced the scale to tip_

"Almost Easy", Avenged Sevenfold

River had edged Inara out of the pilot's seat and was pushing the little shuttle as hard as she dared. Behind her, the other three occupants of the craft clung grimly to their seats and exchanged looks as she banked and turned among the spires and cantilevers that formed most of the architecture in this part of the city. She could feel their thoughts as they floated to the surface, were examined, and dropped back down in favor of the next worry. She wished they knew what it felt like, to have to sort all that from her own thought processes, keep the ship going, and keep tabs on the very frustrated, very angry man she should have never provoked in the first place.

Maybe if she'd given him more warning before she'd stepped into the bay. Maybe if she'd chosen something else to wear. There were other costumes she could have put on. Ones that weren't almost entirely see through. Of course, those were cut and slashed in strategic places, or so tight she might as well be wearing nothing at all. Stupid, stupid move, to try and push him when he was still on edge from having to tell them all so much about himself. Stupid, to deny him connection and not explain why. Her own fears, coming to the fore. Her sense of pride and mischief, picking the worst possible moments possible to make their stabs at him.

They landed with only a few mutters of alarm from Zoe and a couple of wary looks from the other two. She clambered past them as soon as the shuttle was locked in place, climbing over the boxes and bags as carefully as she could without losing any speed. They didn't try to stop her, and she spared a moment to be grateful to them as she slapped the button to open the hatch. Her mind was elsewhere, tracking the Riddick, who was so wrapped up in trying not to come out of the shuttle and kill everyone in sight that he hadn't noticed her land. She heard the Captain, coming down from the bridge and grumbling to himself about Readers and the people they drug home, but she knew she was safe from him for a moment.

Not, however, from Jayne. The big man stood in her way, just at the base of the steps, arms crossed and mulish look on his face. They stared at each other a moment, frozen in place, before a nudge from behind on Zoe's part forced River to move. She stepped aside, listening to the worry for the woman's daughter and the fading hope that nothing had gone wrong while they were away. Jayne jerked his head and told the first mate that her girl was down in her bunk and the woman was off, gone in a blur of tan clothes and dark hair. Simon and Inara came next, each carrying an insulated crate, and River shuddered as they slipped past her and down the stairs to the main deck. She knew the infirmary needed restocking. It didn't mean she had to like what they were carrying.

"Might want to think girl, 'fore you get a man all riled up and leave him in a strange place." Jayne had waited till the others were out of earshot, although River could hear the Captain and Zoe filling each other in. She twitched and closed her mind off to them, focusing on the mobile mountain in front of her. He was angry, worried, and half a step from reverting back to the merc who'd happily dump her out the airlock if she did anything else to upset the crew. She sympathized. She'd been asleep most of the past few months, but they'd been hunting her. With his main job being the protection of this ship and those on he felt the pressure of needing to keep them safe. And here she'd come, making a spectacle of herself for the security feeds and dragging along a man who'd come close to killing most everyone on the ship at least once in the past two days.

He doubted her, doubted how stable she was, and worried that he'd have to do something about it. He didn't want to. She knew it. He knew it. They'd come to an accord of sorts in the past few years. He would always bluster, but she'd learned to look past it to the mind of a man who didn't want to see another home lost. He in turn, had come to understand that she functioned best when not being pushed, either with the mind or the voice. He was waiting now; to see which way she'd jump. To see which course of action he'd have to take. She caught resentment for the fact that Riddick was the one to keep up with her and relief that at least _someone_ could. Added to that was no small amount of fear of the knowledge that the pair of them together could wreak more havoc in a small enclosed space than one of his favored grenades.

But he understood too. He was more like Riddick than either of the men knew, and if they'd just get past the buckets of testosterone, they might actually get along. The instinct to hit first and ask questions later. Their initial reactions when she stepped out as an Apprentice Companion. Jayne still didn't like it, but he'd never made a noise about it either. Not since the very first time he'd mocked her for crippling herself with veils and streamers when she needed to stay safe and dangerous. Ten stitches that had been, right across the temple, and he'd never dared question her clothing choices again. She had more weapons built into this costume than she did her normal clothes and there was nothing about it that hindered her movement in any way. She'd been planning to prove that to Riddick when she got back, but Jayne was right. She hadn't been really thinking. Trying to distract herself really. When was she going to learn?

There was one significant way in which the gun hand differed from her match though, and she could feel him in her mind, realizing she was back on the ship and coming out of his version of mediation to listen for her with his ears. "He can hear you," she said, stepping aside so Simon and Inara could come back for the next load. Footsteps and interest signaled the arrival of Zoe and the Captain Daddy and she glanced up at them before meeting those hard blue eyes again. "And she knows it was stupid. She-"River shrugged and trailed off. How could she explain, except to the one man who was linked to her? The rest didn't even know the words of the language they spoke in their heads.

The other shuttle was opening, and Riddick appeared in the darkened hatch, his bulk filling the doorway. The Captain and Zoe had halted on the stairs leading to the bridge, watching the tableau before them and doing a horrible job of not giving anything away. Between the jaguar reaching through her for their scents and the talents of her own mind, they could hide nothing. Didn't they realize that? Couldn't they see that they'd never have another secret again if they didn't put themselves back in the habit of boarding up their thoughts?

Zoe knew it, and just as abruptly as she realized the fact, she slammed up the walls. River was still catching anger and worry from her, but it came via Riddick as she let him move through her mind like a tornado, finding all the nooks and crannies where she'd been hiding from herself for the past few hours and dragging the bits of her out to stand, jangling in the breeze, under the tree. Behind her Simon and Inara were trying to get back out of the shuttle again, and Jayne was still glowering at her. He had taken one look at Riddick, still waiting on the other side of the bay, and the anger hovering under his surface had bloomed off of him like a full burn in atmo.

She laid a hand on his shoulder, tried to give him a smile, and stepped around his seething bulk. She knew they were watching her. She could feel the eyes, the judgments, the questions and the concern as she crossed the catwalk and climbed the steps. Worry rose paramount as Riddick blocked her way, looking down at her flat eyes unhindered by goggles and walling his mind and feelings away from her. This close she could smell the musk of his deepest arousal, coupled with a rage that simmered just under boiling. The jaguar was bypassing the man again, giving her warning, and she let her hand drop to its ears as she set her forehead to his broad chest. "So sorry," she whispered.

He moved aside, still not reaching for her, and she felt the crew looking at each other and wondering. Simon was already prepping the infirmary in his mind, preparing for lots of bandaging and stitches. Jayne just hoped they'd keep whatever happened contained to the shuttle so he didn't have to shoot anyone; Zoe thought on Sierra and heard Wash's voice in her ears speaking on the dangers of the life they led. Kaylee was oblivious in the galley, thank goodness, working on decoys; and Mal was sending up a hidden prayer that she'd stay put until the latest shit storm had blown over. He was also praying he'd still have a pilot at the end of this, but his assessment of Riddick and his temper didn't lead him to hope for much. Except that maybe if he tried to kill their 'Tross, she'd kill him right back.

And then she was standing in the dark, the hatch had closed, and all that was left were two sets of heart beats and his breath in her ear. She knew that vanilla was rising in the air, and anger was still radiating from him like a small sun. She tried to find the tree in his mind, but he was hiding it from her. Like she'd hidden from him. A taste of her own medicine. Unbalanced, she swayed and lifted her hands to her face as one of his fingers caught the edge of a drape of gauze and he paced around her. He'd taken the goggles off, and silver eyes glared.

"I could strangle you with these," he murmured, and she fought to keep from melting. "Wrap the body up with them too." He caught at the veil that trailed down her back and yanked. The motion snapped her head back as the clips holding it to her hair lost their battle with the force pitted against them. She glared at him while he made another turn around her and wrapped the thin fabric around his hand.

And stopped when he felt blood run.

His shock gave her the opening she needed and River dropped, spun, caught him behind the knees, and kept on going. He tipped over with a bark of surprise, and she didn't give him a chance to scramble for balance before sweeping an arm over his head, enveloping him in the excess fabric that hung from it. A grab and a twist with the other hand and the weakened seams popped. She yanked on the handful of gauze fisted at the base of his neck and he spun, reaching for her as he went. He caught the netting under the skirt, and it tore. But the mesh was made of strands of paper thin metal, harmless until someone did what he'd just tried, and he snarled in pain as his hand got sliced to ribbons. River ducked his other arm, yanked the last of her skirts off, and threw them in his face just as he managed to get the first blinding cocoon off his head. Leaping, she rode him down, knees around his ribs and a blade at his neck. He groped for her, caught her by the waist, and threw her off. River grunted as she came up against the bed, twisted, and wiggled under, privately blessing both Inara and the Captain for never getting around to storing anything under there.

Outside, Riddick came to his feet, breathing harsh as he threw the rags at the bed. He was still closing his mind off to her, and now that she had a second to think instead of simply move, she found herself looking blindly for the jaguar. It stared at her through a crack in the wall, but made no move to help. She'd gotten herself into this. She'd almost caused him to go mad. She could get them all out of it.

The girl shook, listening as he stalked towards the bed. The weapon shouted at her, telling her what she needed to do. But the river was churning, bringing her the memories of her crew from the past few hours. The things the Captain had said in the hold. What Jayne had said both on the bridge and later in the galley. Her promise of no sex for the next few days. Everything all piled on top of everything else, and she'd left him with nothing to do but stew in his own juices and let it drip through his brain. No wonder he'd locked himself in here. The footsteps had stopped, and she knew he was debating reaching down and dragging her out or just lifting the mattress and plucking her out. The weapon wanted to strike. The girl just wanted him to listen. The river spoke.

"She is afraid," she wailed. People outside the shuttle paused, looked at each other. The man stilled, the jaguar pricked its ears. Footsteps again, and then a hand at her ankle, pulling carefully. She didn't fight it, and as soon as she was clear of the bed she curled up in a ball, hands over her head and chest heaving. He still wouldn't open up to her, but the tornado in her mind had stilled, leaving the girl and the weapon standing naked by the lonely stream bank. Clothing shifted, feet scraped over the carpet laid on the deck, and he knelt beside her. The loss of his touch was almost overwhelming, and she whimpered as she curled further in on herself.

"That she makes him not be himself. That things are happening to her body that she's never needed to worry about before. That he is angry with her because she cannot sate him!" She was crying now, teeth clenched and breath hissing between them as she fought to get the words out.

His shock broke the barriers between them, and she scrambled through the flood of thoughts for the center, for the tree and the cave beyond. The jaguar followed, herding her into shelter and turning on the man when he tried to pin her down where he could yell at her. He was gathering her into his arms, making a small bundle of her as he picked her up and sat down on the bed. Neither spoke, warring in their minds instead. The man wanted her to come out. To elaborate. To help him understand. The weapon and the jaguar guarded the entrance of the cave while the waif wept inside for what she had wrought. Warm lips resting on her forehead contradicted the tension in the muscles around her, and she didn't know if she should melt or try and break free.

It was the gurgling of the stream that broke the stalemate. Rising swiftly, breaking white over sudden rocks, she heard the voices of the crew rise in argument, both in their heads and in the cargo bay. Dark eyes met silver, and she scrambled free of his hold and launched herself at the hatch. She activated the locking sequence just as her Captain's fist hit the door. "Go away," she yelled before he could say anything. "Just please…go away."

Anger and fear for her pummeled at her mind.

She groaned and clutched her head. "It's getting very, very crowded in here. Just please leave them alone!"

Riddick hadn't moved from the bed, but the low rumble in his chest and the fangs the jaguar had bared didn't bode well for anyone at the moment. She leaned against the door and prayed that her family would listen, that he would hold back the bloodlust that was slowly rising in the air.

Finally Jayne spoke. "C'mon Mal. Leave 'm be. Don't sound like they're killing each other."

She blessed the man, and promised herself she'd never let him run out of spare guitar strings. Another moment, and the crew left. They were muttering to themselves about crazy killer women and men with scary eyes, but they left. She sighed in relief and looked over at Riddick.

He was gone. Only a rumpled spot on the covers to show where he'd been. She stretched to find him in her mind, but he'd closed himself off to her and masked his thoughts with irritation at her crew. Suddenly angry, wanting nothing more than to fix this and get on with figuring out how to stop it from ever happening again, River growled and stomped her foot as she reached for another knife. ::_Hwoon dahn_,:: she grumbled in her head. ::Quit showing off.::

It got a reaction. If she'd known which reaction she was aiming for in the first place, she might have called it more of a success. As it was, he landed in front of her on cat feet, grabbed for the weapon in her hand, and pinned her wrist up over her head. She had half a second to wonder how he'd gotten up on the ceiling before his lips crashed down onto hers and she was being lifted, melted, and absorbed. Musk and vanilla filled the air, and she almost couldn't smell the old blood as the jaguar fed her the scents.

She wasn't in the cave any more. He'd gotten her out somehow, and they were up against the tree, man and girl. Where the jaguar and the weapon-self had gone to she had no idea. Nor did she care at the moment. Reaching up, she let her fingers run over the soft skin at the back of his neck and braced herself against the door. He tried to follow her mouth as she pulled back, but she twisted to the side and buried her face in his shoulder. "Can't," she sobbed. "Can't."

He growled at her, confused and angry and still half mad from his encounter with the crew earlier. She set out for the stream, pulling him along behind, and sat herself right in the middle of it. "Please Riddick, she is so afraid. Please just listen!"

Rage at whatever was scaring her. Resignation at being thwarted. He sighed and wrapped one arm around her ribs and the other under her _pi gu_ and carried her back to the bed. She let him, and was content for a moment just to breathe. He still wasn't letting her see much in the way of his thoughts, but she was well served for her folly and didn't try to push any more for the moment. And then next. The next several minutes in fact, were spent in silence, as each absorbed the scent and feel of the other. Finally he spoke, and his voice was harsh and grating in her ear. "Cheap trick."

She snorted. "Which one? She leaned back so he could see her face and the anguish she knew showed there. "The costume? Yes. It was mean and foolish. Locking you out of my mind?" She traced a finger up his jaw and he leaned into the touch. "She has been afraid of _herself_ this past day or so. No idea how you would react. Wished to have a better idea…" she trailed off and shook her head. "Needles may be the only way. Life aboard _Serenity_ can be too unpredictable for pills. And as much as she loves her _ge ge_ there is no ruttin way she is letting him insert things made by man in places never designed to take them."

"River," his voice was low. Controlled. She could feel the rage building again at the mention of needles, and he was trying to fit together the pieces of what she was muttering into a cohesive whole. He had it, he really did, but man and animal were both unwilling to approach the subject. Instead, they paced around it as if it may blow up in their faces. Which, if not dealt with, could very well happen."

She sighed and tried a different tack, a different way to bring it up. "Sex and menses don't mix well. Not in space. Extra water for laundry. Special ways of handling…" she shrugged. "Septic systems are finicky. Should not be plugged. If the couple is adventurous, not as easily hidden as residue of normal sex. Taboo is what it is." She was cringing and she knew it, embarrassed beyond all imagination to be having this conversation.

Frustration and humor were warring for dominance in him, and she didn't want to know which would win. All she knew for sure was that their comfortable easy companionship was changing. Nothing in what they felt for each other, she knew that for a certainty. But they would have to adapt the way they conducted their affairs if they were to stay aboard the _Serenity_. No more wandering the ship naked, no more sudden jumping of one another in the most bizarre of times or places. There were others around now, and Sierra; and she was so deathly afraid that by coming here she'd made him compromise his basic self. Ties and chains, but of a different sort. He'd never asked her to change for him. Had she forced him instead?

The bones in her ear were vibrating where the rumble in his chest shook from his skin and into hers. After a moment it turned to chuckles, and then outright laugher. She reared back to be sure he still at least _looked_ sane, even if he didn't sound it, and he caught her face with his hands so she couldn't get away. ::You think I care? About a few days? Fuck River!:: He kissed her gently, and she basked in the feeling of him once more speaking in her head, of having him carve out a place there that she didn't know he'd left. ::What's a few days anyways? I've managed longer.::

She resisted the urge to point out the fact that while he may have lasted longer with no sex before, he'd gotten very used to having his way with her at all hours, and she with him. Absence of a thing was sometimes easier than denial of what was right in front of you. ::In a few days though, a decision would have to be made. She will not choose on her own,:: she replied instead, and took everything about contraception and the possibilities of children that she and Inara and Simon had talked about in her old bunk and later when they were getting supplies and shoved at him. It was far, far easier than trying to put it into words, and she knew she positively reeked of burnt sugar over the apples and rain, old blood and cedar. Ruddick grunted in surprise and stared at her as the man and the jaguar sorted the memories out between them.

He'd let go of her chin, so she buried her face in his shoulder again and waited for the storm to break. Amazingly, it came as a cooling rain, and not the tempest she'd expected. The jaguar nudged her under the elbow while the man crouched to meet the eyes of the girl. "That's what's had you tied up in knots," He murmured. "That's what had you so afraid. That's why you asked if I had kids."

"Biological probability when two mutually compatible humanoids engage in coitus." If she used enough big words, maybe she could forestall the mocking. "Onset of menses is a reminder. It is possible. If the two keep on as they have, it is very likely."

He snorted and laced his fingers up through her hair. Apples and rain, remnants of cedar, charcoal and burnt sugar mixed in his nose and trickled over into her mind. Surprise was still very much evident in him, along with a sort of considering that tended to end with actions such as making the choice to bring a bleeding girl on a hike through monster infested darkness on the off chance he could get her through safely. Or a choice to give himself up and land his ass on a planet so hostile to life the very landscape restructured itself on a daily basis. Or even to listen to a crazy girl that had tried to kill him when she said she could guide him to freedom. The jaguar and the man were working on the puzzle as one, and she felt it like a snap in her head when they reached their conclusion, though she didn't know what it was. He'd done all his thinking behind a hastily erected wall, and she'd decided to be content with the fact that he was holding her for the moment.

::Not now.::

She yanked back, hurt and angry. He blinked, and pulled her a little closer. ::I gotcha, I gotcha. Not what I meant.::

River frowned up at him. :Then what-?::

::Still got to find Kyra. No idea how long that will take.:: One big hand cupped the back of her head and the other her cheek. Silver eyes gleamed and there was nothing there of the rage that had filled them not ten minutes before. The man and the jaguar were crouched at the base of the tree, the weapon between them, trying to coax the girl from the river. ::Still got to see if this fucked up family of yours is worth putting up with.::

And there was the other issue. How much would he have to compromise himself, his core personality, to stay here with her? She bit her lip, but he caught the thought as it passed through her mind and shook his head. "Been around people before. Don't you remember?" Visions of some of his teammates on Sigma 3, the brief almost-friendships with some of the other convicts he tried to help out of slam, the uneasy truce he'd had with the group on T-2. None of them truly qualified as family, but he'd managed to work with them. Some of them he hadn't even been tempted to kill. "Think it was the anger, and the distance," Riddick said as he pulled her a little closer. "Watched you get on that shuttle, mind all closed off. Pissed as fuck I couldn't leave the ship and knowing it was the right choice. Then your Captain, your crew prodding at me. And you. Gone. Not sitting in the tree, muttering in my head. There but not there." He leaned back and pulled the hand that had been buried in her hair out for her to see. How self-absorbed had she been not to notice the bandage?

::She is sorry,:: River whispered as she took his hand in her own and turned it over. ::She did not mean to-::

::Just as much my fault. Should have trusted you to know what you were doing. Should have let you have your space to figure things out instead of pushing.:: He laid a soft kiss on her lips. ::Doesn't change my answer. Not now. Not yet. Can't even say someday.:: He sighed and took his hand back so he could run it up her arm. "I'm not father material River. Never have been."

The jaguar had managed to come up and get the girl's dress between his teeth, and together with the man and the weapon they'd pulled her from the stream and back to the cave. She allowed herself to be led, dripping cool water that puddled, grew, and ran behind her feet as they guided her to the fire. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, and she muttered small nothings into his shoulder as she nestled herself a little closer. Lips brushed her ear, and she sighed in contentment. "One step at a time then."

~HHYFN~

**Author's Note**: Soooo. This is more than just housekeeping, I promise. I've got to keep tension between these two somehow, and it's more fun doing it this way than to just have him try and get used to the crew. After all, if it were going to be easy, it'd be boring.

A note, for those of you who may be men (or too young to know. I know you're out there. I was reading this sort of fic LONG before I even knew the mechanics of sex. Or the body in general). Periods are a PITA. They screw with your brain and your hormones and your everything. If you belong to the camp of "No Sex While on the Bleed" and have a S.O., husband or whatever, it gets even more fun. My husband's found me sitting on the kitchen floor, bawling about nothing and yelling at him for it. Poor man. So I'm pretty much setting these two up for a week or so of agony. I think.

And before anyone gets their knickers in a twist, periods, sex, issues as a couple; these are all the facts of life as an adult. River's an adult and so is Riddick. These things need to be dealt with and one of my pet peeves in any fiction (published or fanfic or even movies) is a near total disregard for these facts. Part of what makes me giggle so much about the "Pitch Black" movie is the whole Jack bleeding thing. And Riddick being able to tell. Few movies, especially action ones, acknowledge the fact that women bleed. The near continuous sex scenes in some books make me wonder exactly when the woman's cycle hits, or do they just plow right through and deal with the smell and the mess as it comes? Garg.

Anyways, now that I've written a miniature essay on the topic, down to the nuts and bolts. THEY DON'T BELONG TO ME! In any way, shape, and or form. If they did, I'd be rich. And probably friends with Summer Glau, Vin Diesel, and the whole cast. And also, after this chapter, never able to look any of them in the eye again.

Shenandoah76209: Yeah. You've pretty much got it. A Riddick out of his element and not at the top of the food chain is a very pissy Riddick. It gets better, I promise. And by better I mean Zoe might lose that daughter of hers to his temper if the kid's not careful…XD I do actually have a plan for them. I know exactly (almost) how this story is going to end. It's the getting there part that keeps putting kinks in the works

Rachet: Glad you like the update. I skipped what they did off the boat because I figured this was much more interesting. Hope some of the stuff mentioned in this chap help!

Sweet Anise: Hi again! So glad to hear from you. Did you have another Riverick dream last night? Maybe they're what's prompting me to get these posted :P Hope you keep enjoying it!

Translations:

_Hwoon Dahn:_ bastard

_Pi gu:_ ass/butt

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	25. Chapter 25

Ch. 25

_Sweet wild road ahead_

_Sweet wild road ahead_

_If I lied and said that all was well_

_I might as well be dead_

"The Devil's Paintbrush Road", The Wailin' Jennys

The Doc had been very thorough and very professional when he checked Riddick over. Face a blank mask, he'd gotten the ex-con to take off his shirt and the harness holding his ulaks and gone over every inch of his torso. The old burn patterns had earned him an assessing look but seeing as there was nothing to be done about them, the Doc kept his mouth shut; which Riddick thought was uncommonly smart of the man. The gash down the arm was pronounced too far gone to end up as anything but a spectacular scar. The bite marks on his shoulders and arms were frowned at, and a glance thrown in River's direction where she waited in the Common room. Riddick snorted and the Doc glared. "Reavers," the big man said. The younger man twitched and fear bloomed around him, but his expression didn't change otherwise. The hand got rebandaged, and he was told to try and be careful with it for a day or so. The twist of the lips and the frustration in the air told Riddick that the Doc wasn't really expecting him to listen. That was good. Man was learning.

Finally, about the time he was starting to wonder if the process was being drug out on purpose, Simon wiped his hands clean of the last of the antiseptic gel he'd been putting on the cuts taken from the fucking net and stepped back. Out in the common area River stood from where she'd been curled up on the couch and glared at her brother. Riddick quirked an eyebrow at her. She stayed where she was, but pushed warnings and alarms his way. ::Please do not kill him,:: she muttered. She sounded like she wanted the honor instead.

"Have you ever had any STDs, infections? Anything of the sort."

Riddick's head jerked up and the rest of him followed, coming off his spot against the counter as if he'd be electrocuted. The Doc crossed his arms and set his jaw. Out in the common room, River groaned and dropped back into her seat. Jayne, just coming down the stairs from the cargo bay, stopped and stared.

"What the fuck sort of question is that!?" He was fairly proud of himself. He _wasn't_ snapping this little fuck's neck. He wasn't even yelling all that loud. The man flinched, but the anger and determination in his scent and face didn't change. "And its none of your business!"

That got a reaction. The soft pampered rich kid vanished and in his place was something else. He'd met a few before, in some of the worst places a person could imagine. A surgeon stood before him, titanium core and ready to do whatever needed to save a life. Or end it. Cold rage boiled off the man; and his voice was dead level as he did what very few men ever did and got right up in the face of murder. "_Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiouh doh sai-jin wuh duh pee-goo! _It _is_ my business; you pile of _shu ma nyaow_! Some things can lie dormant. Some could kill you eventually. And considering I have no idea _what_ variations of _what_ diseases have managed to mutate in your home systems, I don't have a _tā__mā__de_ clue what to be looking for!"

Riddick blinked, River groaned in his head, and Jayne over from where he'd been watching the show to poke his head in and stare. "Damn Doc. Didn't know you had it in ya."

The growl that worked its way out of Simon's throat wasn't as intimidating as the one Riddick could manage, but it did the job. That and River coming over to pull Jayne away. "Leave them be ape man," she muttered. "Bad enough already."

Riddick almost laughed as the gun hand let himself be dragged out of the line of fire, muttering about pushy crazy people and this boat getting weirder and weirder every time they picked up someone new. He would have, if he weren't still so close to snapping the Doc's neck. It must be a family thing, because the man was just as good at provoking irrational and violent reactions as his sister, with none of the advantages she had for calming things down. "How the fuck would I know?" He said once he thought he had his temper under a tight enough rein. "Last decent infirmary I was in was fifteen years ago. Don't remember half the shit I got up to then. Was more worried about the fucking acid burns!"

::Lies.::

:Shut up.::

::Make me.::

He glared out the window at her, where she was glowering at the laughing Jayne. Everyone had such a fucking great sense of humor on this boat. ::Don't tempt me girl,:: he growled, shoving mental images her direction of the all the ways he could get her to quit talking.

She twitched, and the waif in the tree nearly fell out laughing, but didn't react otherwise.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Riddick looked at the Doc. The other man's skin was turning darker, and the rage hadn't left. He shrugged. "Not really."

"Of course you're not!" Simon flung up his hands and stalked around the table to yank open a small fridge unit and pull out a vial. "Why would you? I'm only trying to make sure everyone's healthy and in one piece." He slammed the vial down and reached for a hypo. That brought Riddick up from where he'd gone back to leaning against the counter, senses on high alert. In his mind, River sighed. Simon was still ranting. "I'd like to do a blood draw, but considering circumstances, I'm not even sure that would work. But, if my sister catches something you picked up on who knows what God forsaken rock, I will, I swear-"

"Swear what Doc?" Riddick loomed behind him and made a grab for the vial he'd just filled the syringe from. "What will you do?"

"Broad spectrum antibiotics." River had come back to the door while he wasn't paying attention, and apples and rain mixed with steel and burnt sugar in the small room, overpowering the anger and frustration of the Doc. "Just in case." Turning, she scowled at Jayne. "Go away please. Private talk."

"Prob'ly shouldn't be doing so much yell'n then Moonbrain. Whole ship can hear them."

Feet on metal were proof enough of that. River growled, gave Jayne an extra shove, and shut the infirmary door before going to close the blinds. She was angry, a little fearful, and a lot frustrated. Riddick could feel her in his head, stomping around the base of the tree while the animal watched with interest. The man was otherwise occupied with the needle in her brother's hand. "Think it's a little late for that Doc. Whatever I got, I got."

The man twitched. River groaned and aimed a kick at Riddick's leg. "Fool," she muttered. "Not for you."

Riddick stilled. The Doc's face was blank, but anger and worry were overriding the fear in the room. River was trying to make herself smaller, and she'd climbed back up the tree in his mind and wrapped herself around the animal. :River?::

She looked at him, eyes huge. He could hear the crew outside the room, and Jayne and the Captain were arguing about whether or not to try and get the Doc to open the door. ::She knows why it is needed. He is just trying to take care of her; only way he has left now. Making sure she's as healthy as possible since she refuses to give up her match or quit placing herself in dangerous situations.:: She flinched, but held out her arm for her brother when he came around the table towards her with the hypo full of clear liquid. Riddick mirrored him, cupping her head and pulling it into his chest as she quivered slightly. Simon gave them an unreadable look, but gave her the shot and reached for another vial a fresh hypo that Riddick hadn't seen him pull out. He growled before he knew what he was doing and Simon's head jerked up.

River sighed. "Getting it all over with at once." Dark eyes turned up to meet his through the goggles. ::No babies remember? Only practical way.:: She shuddered. ::Every six month now. Until we decide to stop.::

Riddick raised an eyebrow at her, and her brother was giving off at least ten kinds of disapproval, but the next shot went as quickly as the first, leaving River shaking and stinking of lemons and charcoal in his grasp. The Doc left them alone then, busying himself with putting away the vials and dismantling the hypo. River clung, and in his head he could feel her mutterings. The stream at the base of the tree had turned murky, and the man frowned at it. Now wasn't that interesting?

"Spare clothes for you in the common room," River said finally. ::Not that she doesn't appreciate the bare skin.:: Riddick chuckled and she snorted into his chest as her fingers traced one of the scars on his ribs. ::But she doesn't want to share and there will already be enough questions. Jayne saw you after all, even if Simon doesn't blab.::

Riddick glanced over at the Doc, who looked like he was doing his best to ignore them, fingers pinched over the bridge of his nose. The man was managing to pull his emotions back in fairly well, and his breathing was starting to go back to normal. Riddick shook his head and looked down at his girl. ::Gonna be questions anyways. And where did you get clothes?::

She giggled, ignoring her brother when he spun around in surprise. "Think supplies for the infirmary were the only thing we went looking for?"

Simon shook his head as he went over to the door and unlocked it. The crew outside had mainly stopped arguing, and Riddick had the feeling they were planning an ambush instead. Was everyone on this fucking boat as nosey as a bunch of old women? River laughed and poked him in the side again, then slipped away to follow her brother. "She will get the change of clothes. Should stay here if he doesn't want third degree."

He ignored her of course. The whole fucking crew was sitting in the common room, staring at the infirmary like they expected it to explode or something. He leaned in the door, arms crossed over his chest, and watched their eyes widen. River gave the animal a shove in the shoulder and the man an elbow in the ribs and slipped past Kaylee to the bundle of cloth she'd left on one of the couches. Simon had pulled Inara aside, and they were whispering about the last shot and how the Doc wanted her to have a long heart to heart with River. Riddick toyed with the idea of letting them know he could hear them, but the advantage it gave him was too valuable to lose at the moment. He took the shirt River held out to him without looking at her, still eying the crew as they eyed him. A poke in the side brought him back to himself, and he looked down. She was glaring and shaking the other half of the pile of clothes at him. Pants, he guessed. ::No fucking way,:: he growled. ::Not right now. Your Captain's about to open that big mouth of his.::

River growled and threw the pants at his face before stalking past him and back into the infirmary. He pushed the thought at her that for someone as afraid of needles and shots, she didn't have as much trouble with the room as he'd expected. She ignored him, snatching up his harness and ulaks and shoving them at him before bulling into his side and pushing him out the door. He barked in surprise, caught the shock and wariness of the crew as it bloomed in the air, and growled. "What the fuck River?"

But she wasn't paying attention to him anymore. Apparently all she'd wanted was him out of the way so she could stalk over to Jayne and glare at him, arms crossed. The man looked nervous, and he kept shooting glances in Riddick's direction as the big ex-convict shrugged into the harness and sheathed the ulaks again. The rest of the crew were splitting their attention among the three, and nerves and heartbeats were rising.

"'Tross," the Captain said carefully after a few moments. "Mind telling me why you're lookin' to be skinning Jayne here out after he did ya the favor of dumping all those _go se_ decoys?" She ignored him. Riddick went back to leaning in the door. He was just as interested in the answer as Mal was. "Better yet, want to tell me why the bridge won't tell me where you've pointed us?"

"Sinhon," she said shortly, not looking away from Jayne, who was starting to twitch and mutter. Heads came up around the common room, and Inara stepped forward with a very ungraceful jerk. River ignored them all. "Inara is due for her re-up and report. Better to do it early this year than almost be late like last year." She shot the woman a wry look, and finally turned to Mal. "She knows what she is doing Captain."

Riddick reached for her in his mind. She wasn't blocking him out, but her focus on the crew was so complete that he wasn't catching much from her. Her scent wasn't helping much either, all steel and apprehension. Kyra's still face floated to the surface of her thoughts, followed by determination, and he rumbled to himself as he went to stand behind River. ::You're about to unleash hell aren't you girl?::  
"An' I believe ya," Mal rubbed at his head with both hands. "Just wish you'd share a bit. Give us all a bit 'o warnin' as to what lit this fire under you all sudden like."

"I think it's the same as it has been since she woke up Cap'n." Zoe's face was stern, and she was eyeing River with a fair amount of uneasiness in her gaze. Her eyes flickered when Riddick shifted, and he caught disbelief, anger, and surprise as they swirled through the air, though he couldn't quite tell who was putting out what.

River just looked mulish.

"River," Simon's voice was resigned. "I'm glad you didn't kick me in the face and lock us all out of the bridge, but could you at least _warn _us before you do stuff like this?"

"The Companion is still due at the Training House," River repeated. "And we need to find Paul to find Kyra."

That earned her a blank look from every person in the room. Jayne was the first to recover. "What I said earlier's still true. Mal, you hired me to help keep this crew alive." He was glaring up at the Captain now. "Real hard to do that we keep throw'n ourselves at suicidal situations. An' that's _exactly_ what this is."

River had gone still, steel and charcoal and just a bit of witch-hazel rising in the air. In his head, Riddick stared at the weapon as she dropped from the tree and stalked out of his mind and back into her own home. Water boiled and hissed around her as she passed the invisible boundary between the two, and the girl leaned forward. "_Not_ headed for Persephone. Know better than that. Won't find what we need there anyways. Coffin gone, resurrection planned, Viking ship left to rot and be bait. But Paul can help the girl. He knows things. And Paul is on Sihnon!"

Voices rose in a babble around them as everyone tried to ask their question at the same time. River stood like a rock, face blank, steel and charcoal rising from her like smoke. Riddick stood behind her and watched the back and forth as he fought his own rising irritation. They weren't cowards, not really. Fear was a perfectly normal reaction to anything like what he and River wanted to do. But it was the debate, the assumptions, the arguing like they had any sort of control over what was going to happen that was ticking him off. Up in her usual perch in the tree, the girl snorted and gave him a mental image of a flock of chickens squabbling over something. The weapon was pacing near the stream, and the man watched her with interest. Now what was she going to do?  
"_Bi zuie_," River's voice cut above those of her crew, and she glared at the lot of them when they stopped to stare at her. "Finding Paul is not finding Kyra. He will help with that. If you want nothing more to do with this then fine! Drop us on Sinhon and Riddick and the girl will go after the adopted _mei_ on their own!"

"See Mal, exactly what I done told ya!" Jayne stood and glared down at the girl. "Suicide."

In the corner, Kaylee was tucked under Simon's arm. Mal, Inara, and Zoe were still on the stairs, but Sierra was perched on the first mate's hip, thumb in her mouth and eyes huge. Riddick took a deep breath to analyze their scents, but his focus was on the pair in front of him. It was an odd dynamic, made odder by what River had told him of her history with the hired gun. That he wasn't nearly as angry with her as his voice said was evident in body language and scent. It was more as if he was afraid _for_ her.

::Is. Saw her jump into a pit of Reavers to save them all. Saw her come out bloody but whole. Knows she can do what she plans. Believes.:: The girl in his head shrugged. ::Afraid he will follow her out of duty and loyalty, two things he swore long ago to have no part of ever again.::

Well, that put a new shine on things

Footsteps on thin metal told him that Zoe was coming down the stairs, and the leather and sugar of her scent were mixed with lemons and no small amount of understanding. This woman was a worse puzzle than River had ever been. The girl laughed silently at him and turned to look at the first mate. "River," she said. "I know you feel you got to do this. But think." She held up a hand to cut the girl off as she opened her mouth. "You couldn't help what they put in your head. What those ruttin' _hwoon dahns_ did to you. Miranda…" she trailed off and sighed. "The broadwave was the right thing to do. But it cost us Book, girl. It cost me my husband."

River stiffened, and around the room anguish flooded the air. The Captain's jaw was set, and tears pooled in Kaylee's eyes. Riddick glanced around, but none of them seemed likely to attack at the moment. Zoe was stone faced, but he could hear her heart rate rising, and the breath in her throat was coming in little hitching gasps. He tilted his head and watched her as she gathered herself and straightened a little before speaking again. This was soldier, a warrior, in the purest sense of the word, and he'd met very few who lived up to the name.

::River,:: he muttered to the girl. ::Don't push this too far.::

Wordless acknowledgement was her only reply. She was sifting through Zoe's mind, and he caught glimpses of a man with light hair and gaudy shirts, all in colors he hadn't seen in years. They moved too fast for him to piece any sort of story together, but one image kept cropping up. The man, pinned to his chair in the bridge by a spear so large it was almost a small tree. Sorrow and anger surrounded them, and a cold willingness to follow that man right into the grave.

He blinked, and was back in the common room, River in front of him and her arms wrapped around Zoe. She was muttering under her breath as the woman clung to the girl; and the crew around them was shifting uncomfortably. Jayne had backed off to give them space, and Sierra was propped on his hip with her face buried in the man's shoulder. Simon was holding Kaylee tighter and Mal shifted uneasily from foot to foot on the stairs, hand laced with Inara's

"Who will we lose this time," Zoe's voice was hoarse when she straightened and blinked a little faster than normal. "River, we understand what you're trying to do, but who can stand against the Alliance? Armies couldn't." Her voice was hard, and Riddick glanced up at the Captain to meet steely eyes and a squared jaw. "What can _we _do?"

"Not Alliance," River whispered, and reached over to touch Jayne on the chest. Riddick frowned, was given an image of the man with a large cut where the girl had her hand, and summarily ignored. The gun hand himself twitched and nearly dropped the little girl he was holding. River sighed. "Blue Sun. Ran the Academy. Facilities all over the 'Verse. She doesn't-" River stopped and looked at Riddick. The charcoal and witch-hazel were mostly gone, the steel fainter, and wet earth seeped around the mix like slow lava. He raised an eyebrow and waited, projecting as much patience as he could. A brief smile tugged at her mouth before she turned back around. "She doesn't know where they have taken her. But they have baited their trap on Persephone. Hope to catch the girl. Hope to catch the man she was seen with. Beyond that," she shrugged. "The river flows, meanders, but the specific cannot be found in the general and they might not even know what they have. Must get to them before they realize. Need Paul for that."

::And why should he help us,:: he asked as he stepped up behind her and scowled down at her. This plan was full of assumptions and hopes.

River leaned back into him and frowned up at him. Around them, the crew tensed. Riddick had a brief moment to think that they should probably have explained this aspect of the bond a bit so they wouldn't be on the receiving end of so much suspicion before River muttered ::He owes her. Will always owe her.::

Confusion reigned for a moment as he sorted out what she'd said. She hadn't given him any images, or feelings, or even scents to help. Just the words and vague sense of resignation and dread. Then the pieces fell together. "Fuck," he breathed, forgetting to keep it just to them. River groaned as the crew went on high alert.

::Thank you. Now there will be _more _yelling.:: She shoved at the man and aimed a swat at the animal. ::Wanted to wait to explain.::

"River," Simon was giving off concern and anger as he stepped forward. "River, what's wrong?"

The girl turned to give Riddick the _look_. "Riddick has a big mouth."

Wry chuckles greeted that statement, and the man in question raised an eyebrow at all and sundry. He was mildly surprised when Jayne shook his head and clapped him on the shoulder. "'Bout time someone kept her off balance."

Riddick blinked, but the other man had gone serious again. He was in the middle of opening his mouth when Mal came down the last few steps into the room, trailing a very worried Inara behind him. The two men exchanged a look, and Jayne stepped back, muttering about ruttin' Readers and the crazy shit they got themselves into to. Sierra giggled and poked him, telling him not to used bad words, but the man just grabbed the prodding finger and glared her into submission. Riddick tore himself away from the puzzle that was Jayne to meet the eyes of the Captain.

The man opened his mouth, shut it, ran his free hand through his hair, and looked down at River. "I ask who this Paul is, you ain't gonna answer, are ya 'Tross?"

She shook her head, jaw set, and Riddick would have laughed at the expression on her face if she hadn't been shoving all sorts of images in his direction of how she planned exact her revenge on him over the next few days. The animal thought it may be interesting. The man warned her that if she followed through on those threats, she'd come to regret it. This was war now, to see who could hold out the longest. And he didn't like to lose.

Oblivious to the argument going on between his Reader and her murderer, Mal sighed and shook his head. "We get to Sihnon, get Inara settled at the Training House, and I come with you to find this Paul. If," he raised a finger and shook it in the girl's face. "If I don't like what I see, we turn right around and beat tracks, you got me girl? Not putting this crew in any more danger than I have to."

River nodded, but the steel was back in both scent and voice. "You may beat tracks Captain Daddy. The girl and her match will be staying to find Kyra." In Riddick's head, she leaned against the man and laid a hand on the jaguar's shoulders. ::This will be bloody.::

He didn't doubt her.

**Author's Note**: Sooo…getting back to Kyra now. I hadn't forgotten really. But there's character development that can be done in the meantime. And war has been declared. Won't this be fun? As for the medical stuff, I don't know lots, but I do know some things. Like the fact that no Doctor worth their salt is going to ignore the possibility of sexually transmitted diseases or blood borne pathogens mucking up the works. I'm playing around with the meds though, assuming that 500 odd years in the future they'll have something that could knock most of the bacterial based stuff out before it really takes root. And the six month birth control shot is just an arbitrary number I plucked out of thin air. Apologies for anyone in the medical community. Research on this stuff at 5 in the morning makes me all fuzzy.

They are, as always, not mine. So sorry. Wish they were.

Shenandoah76209: Yeah. People get funky. Hopefully now that I've gotten the STD question out of the way we can avoid a lot of that for a little while. As you can see I went the shot route as well. But it's been my experience that once the bleed is started you can't really stop it. All the blood is built up and let loose from the uterine walls and it's gotta come out at some point. And this shot won't stop her periods for 6 months. The bleeding is necessary after all, or the buildup can cause issues and increase cancer risk on down the line. There are actually pills to ENCOURAGE bleeding. Joy. And no. Genius doesn't mean she handles everything perfectly. I wonder how this little war they've just declared is going to turn out?

Guineverekay: Whoo! Glad you're starting to feel better. I hate to be pushy, but did you see the sketch I did of the dress? Did you like it? As for Jayne and River, I added that line in the edit. I'm not sure where I'll take their history just yet. I keep seeing hints of Zoe/Jayne happening too. Ouy. I imagine at this point he's maybe a little jealous and maybe part glad that, in theory, there's someone who gets her enough to maybe keep her contained. Maybe.

Rachet: Hahah I got it. Had to think. Only seen _Babylon A.D._ once. That shower scene was actually something that made the MOST sense in the whole movie. Dangit. Good premise, horrible script. And yeah, when do half these people go to the bathroom? Well…Iron Man goes in his suit I guess…

Sweet Anise: You get River/Riddick in Fairy Tail, I dreamt I had a kid all of a sudden. Can we trade dreams? All I can remember is not knowing why a kid shouldn't lay on their stomach as a baby. Gah. And no, I don't think Riddick's been around enough women on the rag to know what to expect. Although that makes me wonder. What about Jack when they got to the skiff? How did she take care of things? Did she have a breakdown at any point? Hmm…ideas.

Translations:

_Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiouh doh sai-jin wuh duh pee-goo:_Everything in space is stuffed up my ass.

shu ma nyaow:Stinking horse piss

_tā mā de: _Mother fucker

_go se_: Shit

_hwoon dahn_ : Bastard

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	26. Chapter 26

Ch. 26

_I tried to walk together_

_But the night was growing dark_

_Thought you were beside me_

_But I reached and you were gone_

_Sometimes I hear you calling_

_From some lost and distant shore_

_I hear you crying softly for the way it was before_

"Hymn for the Missing", Red

It was a six day trip to Sihnon. Six days of being closed in a ship with a pack of people whose newest source of entertainment seemed to be seeing just how far they could push him till he found the edge. When that time came he had one of two options. Snap and kill them all, even the child; or go find River and let her know just how close he was to letting the animal free if she couldn't get them to leave him alone for five minutes together. He'd told them as much as he was willing about himself, and while the Captain and the first mate seemed to understand the danger of stepping in the bear trap that was his temper, the rest were so fucking blind that he wondered how they'd managed to live as long as they had.

Things came to a head fairly quickly. He was woken from uneasy sleep about thirty hours in by the sound of a door sliding open and small bare feet on first metal, then carpet. He stilled, reaching for River in his mind, but she'd curled up on the couch after torturing him the night before. Her brother still wouldn't let her dance, but she had stretched out on the floor of the shuttle, stark naked, and he'd finally told her that she'd better not think about crawling into the bed with him unless she wanted a very forceful demonstration of just how _not_ happy he was becoming about their current situation. She'd been right. It was easier to ignore his dick when he didn't have breasts and ass and a general expanse of untouchable skin being waved under his nose like bait.

She'd chucked one of the pillows at his head and wrapped herself up in all the blankets on the fucking bed, leaving him naked, aroused, and completely exposed as he tried to clear the scent of vanilla from his nose. The shuttle was colder than the _Hound_ had been, but pride dictated the terms of this little. Once she was done bleeding though, they'd better be coming with grenades and assault rifles and possibly even knockout gas. It would take nothing less than a fully armed strike force to pry him out of this shuttle and away from her.

Yanking his brain back to the present he found River's mind, just now stirring as the noises he was picking up transmitted themselves to her brain. A hushed giggle told him exactly who had snuck aboard, and he wondered at the stupidity of neither of them having made sure the door was locked before they'd gone to sleep.

::Did. She knows how to short circuit.:: River's voice was muzzy, not quite conscious enough to show any emotion. He on the other hand, was fully awake. He watched through slitted eyes as Sierra tiptoed towards the bed, and then launched herself at side of the mattress that River would have been sleeping on if she'd not put on her little display that evening. He took the opportunity of her distraction to drop off the other side and lunge for the couch, ripping half the blankets off a protesting River and dumping them over the child as she realized her quarry was not where she expected it to be.

::Fucking done with this girl,:: he growled. :: I get it. They want to know who they've got on board. But there is a line and she just crossed it. Honeymoon's over, right now.::

Sierra was squawking in indignation and trying to dig herself out of the pile of fabric as he scowled down at her. River grumbled and cursed, out loud and in his head, but didn't complain when he gave her a shove towards the kid while he dug a pair of pants out of pile on top of the dresser. He hadn't gotten them put away yet. It spoke of a finality that he still wasn't sure he wanted to face. River hadn't commented on it. Her stuff was still sitting in the baskets after all.

::Forgot,:: River told him and took up her perch in the tree. The stream burbled at its base, and the weapon knelt next to it, one hand just barely touching the surface. The man eyed her, but things seemed safe enough. ::Was trying to teach her stealth when the girl was taken. Taught her to short the locks in case anything happened and she needed to escape.:: She yanked the last of the blankets off the little girl and glared down at her, and Riddick was suddenly very aware of the fact that his woman was as naked as the day she was born. Very aware.

She laughed inside his head and he could feel hands through soft fur. The man frowned; the animal opened its mouth and bared its fangs. Turning, he snatched the first thing he found off the top of her basket of clothes and shoved it at her while he went to pick up Sierra by the back of her sleepshirt. The little girl struggled and swatted at his hands, but he was a bit beyond caring at this point. It was dark, and he'd left his goggles on a shelf over his head. He knew it wouldn't have any impact, but he growled and glared at her anyways. "You are asking to get killed kid, you know that?"

"Want River. Needs to fix mamma!"

Eyebrow raised, he looked over at the Reader. She was slipping a dress over her head, and he stepped firmly on his reaction all that white skin disappearing under dark fabric. In their minds, he sent her questions, and she replied with frustration and resignation. Groaning internally, he shook his head and looked back at the little girl, now standing on the bed with her arms crossed and a fair imitation of a River glare painted on her face.

The owner of the original version slipped up next to him, and he drew in a deep breath of apples and rain, a faint bit of steel, and left over vanilla. She was starting to permeate this little ship already, and given enough time he'd have to track her through the main vessel by heartbeat and breath as he did the others. But that was neither here nor there for the moment. He glanced down to meet her dark eyes and shook his head. "Gotta stop River. Wouldn't mind if they didn't keep poking at things. Keep on like this though, something new's gonna happen." He didn't have to tell her what it would be.

She leaned into his side, the pain in her mind reflected in the wet earth and bitter herbs that drifted around her. He didn't want to take her away from her family, as annoying as they may be. There might actually be hope of getting along with them at some point. If they'd just fucking leave him alone and let him get his bearings. Let him do what he always did. Watch and examine, all from a distance. Only once he had the lay of the land would he make his assessment and decision.

But no. What he didn't hear in whispers he got in direct looks. The curiosity that swam through the air wherever he went on this boat was enough to drown him. They'd forgotten to be afraid, to be wary. Maybe it was time to remind them that animals had their limits and they didn't take teasing well.

River had followed his train of thought, a silent presence in his head as he came to his decision. There was still sadness coming off her, but the joy underneath was reflected not only in hints of silk but in the smile on her face as she leaned more heavily into his side. It was too dark for the kid in front of them to see, but he could. He gave her a one armed squeeze around the shoulders before turning his attention back to the little girl. She was still glaring, but her face was turning hesitant. She wasn't getting the reaction she'd been expecting.

Huge eyes turned towards River, but the girl at his side had her arms crossed and was glaring right back. "Manners," she snapped, and he could almost believe she was as angry as she sounded. "It is time you learned them."

He took his cue from the mental nudge she gave him and grabbed the little girl, tossing her over his shoulder relatively gently, but quickly enough to surprise her. And then they were off. Little feet kicked near his face and he trapped them in one hand. Smaller fists flailed at his shoulders and head, but there wasn't much he could do about that. It was the shouts of protest in his ear that were really starting to tick him off though. Out the shuttle he went, across the catwalk and up the other side to the stairs that led to the bridge where River told him Zoe would be.

Riddick moved on cat feet, angry and frustrated and asking himself how he was going to do this if what he had planned didn't work. Wordless reassurance flowed from River, and the stream burbled and ran past its banks to cover the ankles of the man. She would manage, if they had to leave. She was anchored to him by blood and bonds that could never, should never, be broken. It calmed something in him, and the animal stopped its pacing. Now if only he could hook himself into this crew without declawing himself.

He could hear people stirring as Sierra made her opinion of her treatment known to the big empty cargo bay. Zoe came to meet him at the head of the stairs, eyes wet and sorrow and grief pouring off of her like a tidal wave. Her jaw was set though, and something in her face told him that this was another person who'd found their breaking point. She just hadn't clawed her way back yet.

::Been sitting in the bridge. Mourning,:: River whispered quietly. He could hear footsteps on metal, probably the mechanic's, and wondered for a moment what so many people were doing up in the middle of the night cycle. River didn't have an answer for him. After all, he'd just managed to wake everyone else up too.

He stood there with a yelling little girl over one shoulder and River a warm presence at his back; staring at Zoe with his ungoggled eyes as he listened to the rest of the crew opened the hatches to their bunks and come looking for the source of the noise. When he figured he had everyone he was going to get, he flipped Sierra over and set her down. She made a lunge for her mother, but he'd kept hold of her arm and hauled her back as gently as he could. Zoe's face was turning stonier by the second, and she was fingering her short barreled shotgun where it was still strapped to her hip.

"She nearly got killed, sneaking onto the shuttle," he rumbled. "If I hadn't heard her come in, if it had been me lying where she jumped, you wouldn't have a daughter right now."

Zoe blinked, and there were assorted mutters of protest from those behind her, but he ignored them in favor of pulling the little girl back against him as she made another lunge forward. "You people got no sense. I'm a killer. For survival, for fun sometimes. Coulda snapped her neck. Crushed her throat. Broken her ribs and punctured lungs. Alla you keep poking at me like you have been and you'll see exactly why they tried to lock me up. And exactly how I manage to stay free."

He picked Sierra up, braced a foot again the railing, and laid her out over his knee. Two firm swats to her rear and a new chorus of howling from her and he shoved her towards her mother. The woman caught her by the shoulder, and he couldn't pin down a read on her scent. The others were giving off shock and anger, but at least none of them had pulled a gun and shot him yet. It was too early to be dealing with bullet holes.

River stepped aside for him when he turned around to head back to the shuttle, and amusement mixed with sorrow rippled through his head from her as she dropped out of his tree and headed for the invisible boundary between them. He cupped one broad hand around her head, dropped a kiss on her forehead, tried to ignore the vanilla in the air, and kept on going. Maybe she could make them understand.

~HHYFN~

River waited until she heard the shuttle doors slide shut. He was leaving her in peace, not pushing for her to let him see what would come next, thinking only of getting the bed put back together and going back to sleep. It was an admirable cover for the rest of the thoughts she knew simmered beneath the surface, and she pulled her attention away from his mind to leave him to his musings. After all, if they couldn't have some sort of privacy sometimes, they would both go mad in time. And that would end bloody for everyone. They had the bond after all, and it was enough to link them even without her perched in the jaguar's tree or the man sitting by a well and drawing buckets of water up to the edge.

She focused instead on her crew, her family, as their collective mind processed what had just happened. Zoe recovered first, taking refuge in her duties as mother and crouching to face her daughter. "Sierra, you know better." Her voice was not the voice of Zoe Washburn, mother and first mate. This was the Corporal, hard and afraid that her child would be taken from her. River touched the woman's thoughts with a finger, breaking the surface tension and shaking a drop from her hand before moving on to the rest.

Jayne was impressed in spite of himself while at the same time trying to figure all the ways this could go bad and how many weapons he should have strapped on his person while the crazy murderer was on board. River shook her head and moved on. Inara was relieved at the Riddick's restraint, wary of the promised violence, but hopeful that River herself could keep him in check. The girl didn't have the heart to correct her friend. First to help with dreams she didn't understand and feelings in her body that Kaylee just laughed at and Zoe was unapproachable on, she didn't want to scare the woman at this moment. Hopefully, she wouldn't ever have to show her what true fear looked like.

Kaylee though, she was afraid. She was happy for River, happy she'd found a big man who seemed as like her as a matched team in harness, but she didn't have a truly violent bone in her body. And while she'd learned to accept River's little quirks on that score, this man was an entirely different story. It made the girl sad, because she knew that it was partly her fault that Riddick avoided the chipper mechanic. Maybe, just maybe, if she could keep her family off his back, he'd warm up to her a bit. Maybe.

Hard blue eyes met hers, and River sighed as the Captain directed all his thoughts and worries her way. What had she brought back, he wondered. What sort of man had she hooked herself to and had she, by extension, set her whole crew up to be killed?

River growled and stomped her foot. "She has. If the family can't learn to accept him, it is very likely that all will die." They all looked blank, the Captain only slightly less than the rest. "They thought he was tamed. Thought that because he and the girl claim each other as match that the River will soften the killer." She crossed her arms and glared at the Captain Daddy.

He was living up to the name, mind all sorts of stubborn and overprotective; and she wished she could reach out and dump what she knew into his mind the way she could with Riddick. That though, the knowledge that someone could see inside her deepest self and accept her as she was; it was far more valuable than any gift anyone had ever given her. She felt warm fur as the jaguar rubbed its jaw along her hand in acknowledgement before leaving her to her thoughts again.

"Leave. Him. Be." She ground out finally. "Let him do what he does. Observe, analyze, evaluate. _D__ú__duàn__zhuān__xíng_. Push him and he will leave rather than kill those the girl loves most. And she will go with him." It was all that really needed to be said. Elaboration would get her nowhere, whereas simplicity was oftentimes the most cutting truth.

And she'd taken pains to keep it simple. She wanted to rant about jaguars being caged and teased, about separating halves of a whole and neither being able to function without the other. She'd wanted to fly at their faces and show them just how much damage was possible, and then call Riddick from the shuttle to prove just how much more mayhem his bigger frame and larger body mass could accomplish. The weapon was starting to merge with the girl, blades rising and falling from the surface of her skin in time with each breath. She separated them with a wrench that jerked through her whole body and left her gasping and clinging to the railings of the catwalk.

Worry flooded over her, everyone wondering what was wrong, what was happening. Simon's mind pushed to the fore; a roil of flashbacks of other episodes she'd had while under his care and the underlying fear that if he suggested a smoother or anything else she'd be up and gone before any of them could blink. The Captain had been right. She'd asked him not to be himself, not be a doctor. But as long as he kept his thoughts and worries locked behind his lips as he had so often since she'd run and come back the first time, she could live with it. The words and deeds would be the stones that started the avalanche.

A small hand slipped into hers as she swayed in place, and River looked down into Sierra's frightened eyes. She tried to dredge up a smile for the girl, but it wasn't working very well. In her head Riddick was becoming aware of her agitation, and the man and the jaguar had come to stand at the boundary between their minds. She took comfort from their presence, and placed a hand into the watery wall between them. It was enough to steady her, the calm order of his thoughts, even when he was worried about her and whether she would be able to handle her crew. She had to, she knew it. If she didn't, if she let him come out here and lend his support again, she wouldn't be his equal. She'd be hiding behind him and not standing on her own two feet. Amusement washed over her at that, and she wasn't sure if it came from him or from herself. The man had reached up to lace his fingers with hers through the barrier, and she let him pass her strength enough to regain her balance and meet the eyes of the crew.

"_Jì__zhu_," she told them, walling off the rest of their thoughts and emotions as best she could. "Remember that he has never been tamed and that she will not ask it of him."

Point made, she spun on her heel and stalked off down the catwalk. She could feel their eyes on her back, but their eyes had always been at her back, and she focused on what was in front of her instead. Riddick, lying on the remade bed, naked and smirking. He didn't plan to let her have the covers this time, and she grumbled to herself. Hopefully he hadn't taken all of the pillows either. On entry to the shuttle she stopped and surveyed the damage. He'd left just enough light for her to see, and lounged back against a pile of pillows stacked against the headboard wearing only a grin.

That part she'd been expecting.

What he'd managed to hide from her was the fact that he'd dug every piece of underwear she owned out of the baskets and cut them open at the seams, leaving the pieces in a pile on the floor. One bra lay on the couch, a frilly lacey thing that Kaylee had gotten her sometime in the past few years, and she glared at it. Black and crimson, she knew he could tell what color it was even with his grayscale vision. She locked the door, stomped over, picked it up, and found the matching thong tucked underneath.

He was rumbling out a laugh as she stood and fumed, and she bulled her way into his mind to give him a piece of hers. The man caught her, the jaguar sat on her, and the weapon didn't put up much of a struggle. Strength and comfort and the familiarity of his need for games and mental one-upmanship built around her, walling her around with the essence of his self, and she basked in the glow of it and decided to forgive him. Just a little.

After all, there were still corsets with metal stays to be considered, and Inara was always willing to lend her clothes.

**Author's Note: ** So. A little short than usual. But I felt that this was a good place to stop. You'll see in the next chapter why I did this. I felt it was about time for Riddick to show his teeth a little here. They saw him fresh awake and pissed, and I think they might have thought that it was just because of how he came aboard. Now they're starting to realize that he never sits too far away from the possibility of random acts of violence. Oh joy huh?

Shenandoah76209: I don't know that they have terms as such. Just seeing who can hold out longest. And who can get under the other's skin more. I'll be revealing this bit by bit over the next few chaps. Think I kinda answered the "putting up with the crew" bit here. These two are done. And I think River's been a lot more forgiving of the crew than they realize, so they've never been quite as careful as they could be.

Rachet: Hahaha. We'll see what they do about Blue Sun. Actually getting to that part in the stuff I'm writing now. Expect Mal to drop of a heart attack at some point. I love the man, but I'm not going to be very nice to him…

Guineverekay: Glad you like the dress. It would have more layers, but my brain was overloading and I was having a hard time keeping track of the layers. Just wanted to give a general idea of it. I hope to keep the tension going as to whether these two will go off on their own or not. They might, they might not. Like I told Rachet, getting to that in the stuff I'm writing now.

Beth Weasley: I don't think Riddick likes people poking at him in general. He's find sharing bits of himself so long as he can use it to his advantage. As for Paul, wouldn't you like to know. You'll all find out eventually, I promise.

Sweet Anise: True. Very few would come out of that experience level headed. But, can you imagine having to deal with the blood on a dinky ship with two strange men? I might shoot myself first. As for Chillingsworth, I don't know. Space travel seems to take a LONG time in the Riddick 'verse.

Translastions:

_D__ú __du__à__n__zhu__ā__n__x__í__ng_-to decide and act alone (idiom)

_J__ì __zhu- _to remember **/** to bear in mind **/** to learn by heart

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	27. Chapter 27

Ch. 27

_Follow me, follow me_

_As I trip the darkness_

_One more time_

_Follow me, follow me_

_I awake from madness_

_Just in time_

_What a day?_

_I can barely keep my eyes wide open_

_I don't wanna see straight_

_What a day?_

_Seconds, minutes and hours spill over_

_There's no time here in space_

"Trip the Darkness", Lacuna Coil

The crew gathered in the galley once Zoe had put Sierra back to bed, pouring tea or alcohol as was their wont, and looking at each other with wariness in their faces. It was an emotion they'd gotten very used to in the past few days. After all, what else was there to feel when your missing Reader girl turned back up trailing a man who looked like he'd give you the choice of ten different kinds of quick and painless death and twenty more slow and horrible? And to see them follow each other around, like a set of binary stars in orbit?

Wary was a very good word for it.

It was Mal who broke the stillness, taking a long pull off the bottle of sake in front of him before passing it to Inara. She quirked her lips, poured some out into the cup she'd just drained of tea, and handed it off to Simon. The Doc looked at it for a moment, shrugged, and took a swig. Jayne had a bottle of whiskey he'd claimed for himself, and let Zoe reach for the bottle Simon held out so that she could take her shot. Kaylee had opted for tea, and was nursing the mug in front of her as if it would be the last she'd ever have. Which, Inara mused; it might very well be if her adoptive family didn't pull their heads out of their collective _pi gus_. She was including herself in that statement, she knew better than to believe she hadn't been just as irritating as the rest.

She mulled that over as she sipped at her refilled mug. She'd been trying to be polite and really, so long as River was happy, she was prepared to be happy for her. That her choice in men was apparently far different than that of a normal woman's was stunningly obvious, but the girl was far from normal herself. They fit, they really did, and in some odd and inexplicable way that the Companion was beginning to suspect had a lot more to do with the gashes down their arms than either of them was saying. Therein lay the problem, for her at least. They were so very close mouthed, and she _had_ been studying them, the man in particular. It was part of her training, part of what helped her pick the clients that would best suit her. It was also part of what helped her flag the clients most likely to offer violence and harm. Not that there weren't Companions who specialized in that sort of thing, but she wasn't one of them.

She'd been trying to be subtle, trying not to intrude, but the man, the Riddick, must be much more observant that she'd realized. She wondered briefly if an apology would be taken in the wrong way. Maybe eventually, she decided, once the rest of the crew had put some distance between their curiosity and the self-proclaimed killer. Hopefully Rive would let her know when it was safe to approach him again. Bad blood, after all, festered in an environment such as this; and she'd rather lance the infected wound than have it blow up in her face. Now if only the rest of the crew, namely Simon and Kaylee, could be made to understand. Neither of them seemed to be able to keep their interest to themselves, each for different reasons of course.

A hand, calloused and warm, touched hers, and she looked up into Mal's eyes. She nodded to show she understood and would support him in this. It was a delicate balance that they'd worked out over the years, and while they still bickered and fought over the small things, when it came to the larger issues she'd learned when to let him be the Captain and when to remind him to be a husband. Luckily enough, she didn't need to worry about disagreeing with him in this case. He knew that if she'd seen anything truly disturbing in the relationship between his _yǎng__nǚ_ and her…whatever he was, she would have mentioned it by now. Even if it was only in the privacy of their bunk and away from prying ears that tended to blow things all out of proportion, she would have warned him. She hoped he'd remember that. Her assessment of the goings on between the Reader and the killer was not going to be met with joy.

Mal held her eyes just a moment more and she quirked her lips into a taunting grin. The idea River had given her would be fun to try on her husband. Provided he agreed. He frowned slightly, obviously trying to figure out what she thought was so funny, but they didn't have time for another marital spat at the moment. A quick squeeze of her fingers and he put on his Captain's face as he stood.

"All right then. He obviously ain't what we're used to. All kinds of violent." Mal cast a glance over his gathered crew. Inara did the same, seeing anger and fear hovering at the edges of Zoe's face, confusion and frustration on Jayne's, and varying degrees of all four on Simon. Kaylee, sweetheart that she was, just looked puzzled. The Companion sighed to herself. This really wasn't going to go well.

"Now," Mal continued. "He's had lots of chances to end us these past few days. Ain't done so yet. Whatever he was 'fore he came here, 'fore River found him, he seems ta be makin' the effort ta get along. I'll admit it my own self, ain't really been try'n to make it easy on him." Now came the stern voice, and Inara took another sip of her sake to hide the smile on her face. "That ends now, _dong ma_?"

The crew stiffened, and Inara made a mental bet with herself. Sure enough, Simon opened his mouth, indignity in every line of his body. "But-"  
"We ease off. Keep your curiosity to yourselves, and quit shadowin' him around the ship." Kaylee and Simon both got a hard eyed look, and they frowned in unison. Inara shook her head, rolled her eyes when Mal turned that look on her, and nodded her agreement. She'd learned about as much from the pair as she could anyways, and unless one of them decided to talk to her, all she had was educated guesses backed by years and years of experience in the ways of man and woman. And that experience was going to be highly suspect in this particular case. Mal shook his head a bit but continued. "He wants ta talk, fine. He wants ta watch, fine. Can't blame him for snapping tonight. Wouldn't take kindly to it my own self."

"It'll be taken care of Sir." Zoe's face had that special air of determination that she only carried when things were about to get truly ugly. Inara almost felt for Sierra, but for four years the little girl had had the run of a ship full of people who were, by and large, fairly tolerant of a little girl's insistence on nosing into anything and everything. River especially had been open to it before she'd been taken, and the two could often be found wandering the ship like a mama duck and her offspring. The transference of affection was going to be hard on the little girl, but she had to learn at some point that there were lines you didn't cross. One day she might even understand how close she had come to death tonight. Inara had no doubt that if Riddick had been truly irrational about being snuck up on in his own bed by a strange child, they might have been gifted with a corpse instead of a squalling bundle of ill manners.

"I still don't like it." That was Simon. The sake bottle had come to rest near his elbow, and he took a long pull from it before setting it down in front of Kaylee. She turned it in her fingers as she watched her husband with worried eyes. "He's been too _biàn__huàn__mò__cè_," the Doctor continued. "First he talked her down from going after his...sister," Simon's voice said clearly that he doubted the man's claim on the unknown girl. But Inara was wondering the same thing she knew Simon was. How much would Riddick encourage and how much would he stand aside and let happen? Had he seen River at her worst yet? She hoped not. And she hoped so. There were so many different ways this could go.

Simon wasn't finished. "And then that display in the cargo bay, what _was_ that anyways? Captain, you said he as good as threatened you while we were gone." The Core bred man was showing under the veneer of Rim that he'd acquired in the past few years and Inara knew that it couldn't be good. Any time he reverted to form and started acting like the blind innocent he'd been when he came on board, the man's foot got stuck in his mouth. "And cutting his hand open like that? He's not stable! Now he's been stalking River around the ship and looking like he wants to murder her!"

Inara blinked. She'd thought she was the only one who'd noticed that particular pattern of behavior over the past day or so. Across the table, Kaylee's face fell and she stared up at her husband in disbelief. "How-How can you tell Simon? How would you know what he wants?"

"I don't Kaylee." Simon rubbed his hands over his face. "That's the whole problem."

"Doc's right." Jayne set his whiskey bottle down with a little louder thud than was really needful in Inara's opinion. "The man tracks her." His face was hard, and Inara knew she needed to step in before they worked themselves up into a froth over this.

She braced herself, threw Mal a glance to warn him, and leapt with both feet. "It's a game."

As reactions went, she wasn't disappointed. It was as if she'd run an electrical charge through everyone's feet, and they jerked in place and stared. Mal recovered first, snapping his mouth open and shut only once before croaking "A what?"

Zoe recovered only half a moment behind her Captain; not surprising really. She was far more observant in the daily course of things than Mal, and Inara had caught her watching the pair out of the corners of her eyes as well. She just hadn't been aware that the other woman was coming to some of the same conclusions. "She won't let him touch her Capt'n, not in public. Tonight was the first time since we got back from that shopping trip she let him reach for her without slipping away. Although I'm a mite puzzled as to how that makes it a game."

Mal's jaw clenched and Inara sighed inwardly as she watched the other men in the room react in a similar fashion. _Jen mei nai-shing duh fwo-tzoo_. The Companion sat forward and rapped on the table with her knuckles to call for their attention. It worked, partially. Simon still looked like he was contemplating murder, and so did Jayne. Kaylee just looked confused and worried. "He isn't letting her near either, if you hadn't noticed. This was the first time since we left Hibal that _either _one of them showed any sort of real affection where we could see it." The Companion forced a lot more confidence than she felt into her smile as she looked around at her family, and hoped none of them called her bluff. It was the best she could come up with after all; given the limited information she had on the pair and the short time span she'd had to observe them. But she had a feeling that if she could get River alone for a moment, she'd find out. If only by means of Riddick showing up before she managed to ask the girl anything.

"And why is that good?" Mal's voice was cracking as his Captain's façade dropped a bit. He was staring at her, and Inara wished desperately that they weren't in front of the crew so she could tell him how much he resembled a gaping fish at the moment. Compromises. She'd tell him later, where he could squawk at her in private.

"Holy shit."

They turned to look at Simon, who sat, hands over his mouth and eyes as big as dinner plates. Kaylee and Jayne gave each other identical confused looks. "What?"

Simon met Inara's eyes over his hands, and she pitied him the horror he was experiencing at the moment. Not enough to try and reassure him, because the terms of the little war she'd been watching unfold were still unclear, but enough to sympathize. He was going from beloved _ge ge_ to relational wallflower in record time, and the man wasn't dealing with it very well at all.

"It does explain the uncommon _wō__xīn_ that River's been displaying these past few days," Inara said quietly as she looked back at first Zoe, then Mal. "And so long as her behavior isn't the norm between them, it would also explain his rather spectacular temper."

"I still don't get it," Kaylee whispered. "Game? And he's big and scary, but he ain't hurt no one. Well," she ran a hand down her husband's arm as he turned to stare at her. "Not since he first woke up."

"He threatened to kill my daughter." Zoe's voice was flat, and Kaylee cringed in her seat at the steel in the reply.

There was a pause as they all mulled over the implications of the scene in the cargo hold not ten minutes earlier. It was chilling, what he'd said. And even worse was what River had said once he'd gone back to the shuttle. But Inara couldn't find it in herself to truly blame either of them. After all, everyone liked to have their privacy, and there'd been precious little of it for the wayward pair since they came on board.

Simon however, was still stuck on their behavior as a whole. "Who would know," he asked. "What was normal and what wasn't for those two? River…" he shook his head. "River's always been volatile. And she's only known him a month and a half or so. That's barely enough time to get to know anyo-" He froze, mouth half open, and Inara winced as she waited for the other shoe to drop. "_Shun-sheng duh gao-wahn_," the Doctor breathed and slumped back into his chair to fist his hands in his hair.

"What?" Mal leaned forward, voice and face as worried as it was possible to be. Inara reached out and laid a hand on his arm, but he barely glanced her way. Past him, she could see Zoe tensing, getting ready for what looked like an inevitable confrontation. Simon just sat there, breathing deeply as Kaylee clutched at his shirt and Jayne eyed him like he was an armed grenade.

"It's her menses," Inara said as clearly as she could. The crew yanked around to stare, and she fought sudden stage fright. This isn't what she'd wanted to do, not to River, not to Riddick, not to any one of her friends. She prayed that River would understand, and hoped Riddick never found out. She knew it was probably a faint hope. Nobody on this ship could keep their mouths shut; herself included.

Mal yelped a very unmanly yelp and stared down at his wife in horror. She frowned up at him. He knew about the biological processes a woman went through. He knew when to step softly around Zoe, bribe Kaylee, or just let his wife be when she snapped at him over nothing. But Inara supposed that River's behavior had always been unpredictable enough that her Captain hadn't necessarily known when she was just being herself and when her hormones were out of control. Her husband froze, poleaxed as the three women of his crew gave him identical flat looks of disgust. Inara shook her head for good measure. Really, was the man blind sometimes?

"_Cao_," Jayne muttered, and they all whipped around to stare at him. He took another pull off the whiskey bottle and shook his head. "That's what's got Moonbrain all in a knot?"

"How are you ok with this," Mal fairly screeched. Inara winced and Zoe gave him a look that suggested that she seriously doubted her loyalty to him at the moment.

Jayne snorted. "Ain't ok. But I got sisters. An' I been stuck on a boat full o' womenfolk nigh on six years. Think I don't notice when they go all wonky once a month? Hell, been bribe'n the girl three years now not ta go in my bunk and pull on the fire'n pins on the ladies. Remember that little stunt?" He took another pull on the bottle in front of him, draining it, and stood. "I may be dumb, but I ain't stupid." And with that he stalked past his gaping Captain and out of the galley towards his bunk. They watched him go, and even Inara felt a little stunned at the revelation. Jayne, observant? Jayne, not pitching a fit? Was the gravity on the ship aligned properly?

Simon broke the silence as they all tried to fit what they knew of the merc into what he'd just told them, and the Doctor's voice was just as frustrated as ever. "I still don't get it. River being irritable, yes, but-"

"River's right." That was Kaylee, and Inara hid another smile behind her mug as she watched the diminutive woman glare at her husband. "You can be such a boob sometimes Simon. Didn't you listen? She ain't touch'n him. Won't let him touch her neither. Course he's gonna go all _feng le. _ Prob'ly ain't been told no yet. Now's he's on a boat full of all manner of strange folk and the _one_ person he knows can't give him noth'n he needs. You and Cap'n and even…" she choked and looked at Zoe before shaking her head and plowing forward. "Even Wash would 'a taken it just as bad." She was clinging to her husband's shirt now, and Inara felt for her. She was right of course. She couldn't speak for either of the other women, but just because she had to go without sex for a week or so, it didn't mean Mal got ignored. He'd be worse than cranky. He'd pout, and that wasn't an attitude she could ever deal with for long.

Simon was turning bright red, and Inara suspected that he didn't get denied very often either, except when Kaylee lost her temper and kicked him out of their bunk to find somewhere else to sleep. Which was completely understandable. The man was still so___zhuō__bèn_ when it came to women sometimes.

Across the table from the Companion, Zoe drummed her fingers and looked thoughtful. "That bond or whatever. Gotta be mak'n the wait worse. _Wu de tyen ah,_ what a knot to be untied…"

Mal was shaking his head and looking stubborn. He was very good at it. Inara was still of the opinion that they'd had to perform a Cesarean on his mother. Must have been the only way to pry him out of where he wanted to be, man was so muleheaded. "Still don't explain the game part though," he muttered as he glared down at his wife. She blinked innocently back. "Simon's got a point. Man looks more like he's ready to stuff our girl out the airlock than anything."

Zoe snorted. "Who hasn't felt like that at some point sir? She can be awful smug, knowin' all of what's in our heads. 'Member how she was over you and 'Nara after…" she bit her lip and moved on. "After the broadwave?"

Mal shuddered and Inara winced. That had been an uncomfortable several months, full of bickering, threats to leave, River's knowing looks, and culminating in the girl somehow contriving to lure them both into one of the cargo holds and locking them in there. Along with a pile of blankets, food, water and an empty bucket. The rest of the crew had been so busy laughing Mal hadn't been able to get a one of them to listen long enough to let them out. Wry blue eyes met dark brown, and she knew that he remembered those two and half days as well as she.

"So," Kayle was frowning, oblivious to the thoughts going through her Captain's head and that of his wife. Inara spared a second to be grateful for only having _one_ mind reader aboard before she bit her lip and focused. "So if she's in his mind, knows how frustrated he is…why's she rubbing his nose in it?"

Zoe shook her head in agreement. "Don't sound like any kind of smart to me."

Inara sighed. Time to lay the last of her cards on the table. She hoped she was right. If she wasn't, she was going to have a very irate Reader on her hands come morning. Or even sooner, depending on whether or not the girl was monitoring them at the moment. "I question if he's not in her mind as well," she said carefully, turning her mug in her hands. "Sometimes he reacts to her the way we would in a conversation, but neither is speaking." She raised her eyes to meet those of her crew. "As for the game, I suspect it's a coping mechanism. Seeing which one will give in first."

Simon snorted and shook his head, taking the sake bottle from Kaylee and downing a large swallow. Inara flinched, and Kaylee sighed as he handed the empty bottle back to her. "How can that be good? For _anyone_ on board," he asked, his voice full of bitterness.

Inara shrugged. "It is a relief actually; if I'm right. It means that she isn't letting him dominate her. Something I'm sure, given what we've seen of him, could happen fairly easily. His personality can…" she trailed off, at loss for words. It was hard to think of the big man in the same frame of reference as the rest of humanity. There was something different, something _other_ about him that she suspected was rooted into the same reason he glowed blue on occasion and was able to take River's idiosyncrasies in stride. The Companion wondered if there was a word in any language for what he was.

A large calloused hand came to rest over hers and she looked up to meet Mal's eyes. He knew. He got it. However much Riddick may camouflage it, there was a decidedly animalistic bent in his behaviors. Inara wondered if that was the key to a puzzle she wasn't even sure she was putting together.

"It can overwhelm a body," her husband said before straightening and crossing his arms.

Inara nodded and took another sip from her mug. "Exactly."

He rubbed his fingers over his temples and sighed. The crew sat, waiting to see what he'd say, to see which direction they should leap. She knew where Simon was leaning. Kaylee too. Opposite directions, but then opposites quite frequently attracted. After a moment, the Captain shook his head and hooked his thumbs into his belt before looking back down at her. "Just so we're clear. You think they talk to each other. In their heads. And that she's…bleed'n?"

"She is." That was Simon. All Doctor now, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. "Asked for a birth control shot the day we left Hibal. Talked to Inara and me about it before we left for the shopping trip."

Mal jerked in place, spine going ramrod straight. "Never! Never Doc, ya hear me? Never need to hear that about my daughter." His face was turning red and for a moment Inara wondered if he'd have a heart attack on the spot. A quick glance told her Zoe was thinking the same thing, and the two women shared a moment of resigned bonding over tender feelings of the man who ran the ship. Kaylee burst out in giggles, and Mal had to draw a breath to grumble at her, breaking the apoplectic cycle.

Zoe beat him to the punch. "And they're dealing with the no sex thing by try'n to make each other crazy about it?" Disbelief and denial lined every word, and Inara had to admit that when it was put that way, it did sound incredibly illogical. But when had anything about River been logical in the first place?

"I'm sure there's a term for it," Simon groaned as he buried his hands in his hair. "Sadomasochism comes to mind. Or maybe schadenfreude." He shook his head and Kaylee laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I can't believe I'm saying this. About my own sister!"

"I don't know if masochism is exactly the right term Simon," Inara frowned as she ran through her training in her head. "I haven't seen any indications of one humiliating the other in this. I would suspect though, that each is giving as good as they're getting in this particular battle of wills. However, I myself am _not _interested in knowing the state of that shuttle, either now or once she's off her cycle."

"Or one of them snaps first," Zoe muttered.

Inara nodded and gripped her mug a little tighter. "Or that."

"Right then," Mal shuddered and looked around the room. "Got that straightened out. Scary as Reavers those two are."

Zoe was still shaking her head, but the look on her face was more resigned than angry. "Best bet Sir," she said quietly. "Do what they say. Leave'm be. Let them sort it out." She lifted a hand as her Captain and Simon and Kaylee all started to protest. "Don't get in the way when the sparks fly and we'll probably all come out of it ok. Prod at them though," she shrugged and spread her hands. "And I think we'll have more to worry on than how they handle their sex life."

Mal twitched and turned purple again, but manage to keep his squawking contained. Inara shook her head and eyed Simon fought as he fought a small war with himself, emotions marching their way across his face. Kaylee just watched them all, hesitant, but unwilling to speak against anyone. Inara hoped she'd always stay that way, and that nothing would happen to the girl to mar that insistence on seeing the good in everyone.

Standing, she decided to save her husband the trouble of trying to force words out of his mouth. Taking him by the hand, she gave a tug in the direction of their bunk. "And on that note," the Companion said quietly, "I bid you all good night."

~HHYFN~

Laying on a bed too large for one person, covered in enough blankets to cocoon two, and thoroughly pissed about it, Riddick cracked one eye open to glare at the girl curled up on the couch. She'd kept the dress on, and the bra and underwear he'd left for her were lying in a small heap halfway between the two. She was giggling, quietly, but loud enough to wake him from the light doze his mind had been hovering in for the past half an hour as he tried to get down into a true sleep. "What's so funny girl," he grumbled.

She shook her head, walled him out when he prodded at her mind, and nearly fell of the couch as a fresh burst of laughter caught up with her. He closed his eyes, determined _not _to look at the legs and ass revealed by the dress as it caught and bunched around her hips.

Not. Looking.

Fucking tease. How had he come out the loser by stealing the blankets? And cutting up her underwear? Now he had to walk around this fucking ship knowing every minute that little pile of cloth lay on the floor of their shuttle, she didn't have a thing on beneath her other clothes. It was going to drive him fucking batshit, he knew it.

He winced as she erupted again and growled as he fought his way out of the pile of blankets. "What is it?

Warm hands buried themselves in fur as a slim body twined with the man's. Joy and humor filled his mind, and silk filled his nose. ::She will tell you in a couple days. Or he will figure it out soon. It will not be that difficult.::

He growled again, but didn't press. If she said he could wait to figure it out, it couldn't be all that bad. Laying himself back out on the bed, this time on top of the covers and their claustrophobic warmth, he let the animal curl up around the girl and the man find his balance with the weapon as she wrapped herself just a little tighter around him. Piled together at the base of the tree, they fell asleep, just as the two separate bodies followed suit.

**Author's Note**. So, whatcha think? Now that we've got the crew involved, I thought it was time to start bringing other viewpoints into the mix. After all, there's only so many time I can use River's mind reading or Riddick's hearing/nose to show what the rest of the crew is going through. Much easier to just show it to you directly than dance around it.

A couple things. Inara doesn't think they've shown affection (in public) since they left Hibal. And aside from when River got her shots, they really haven't. Keep in mind; it was at the end of that conversation that they declared war and the no touchies went into effect. I was also making this up on the fly, trying to come up with reasonings. Fun eh?

As for the assessments of their behavior that Simon's made, I'm doing some very_ light_ research on that in this case. Google was my friend, and I'm not really looking to make an in depth analysis. I know many are familiar with S&M in the context of whips, chains, ball gags and the sort. I'm not looking at the trappings for them. It's the expression of character we're dealing with here. A dominant/submissive relationship with one of the couple humiliating/quasi-injuring the other either physically or emotionally and the other taking it. And asking for more. I could see these two, in different circumstances, turning out that way. Keep in mind, this is MY interpretation of it. I am by no means an expert

But I'm landing more on the shadenfreude end of things I think, if there's a term at all for these two and their quirks. The exact definition I found for it goes like this: Enjoyment obtained from the troubles of others. They both like to play games, mindfuck people if you will. And that includes each other. And now it's spilling over into their sex life.

Shenandoah76209: So. They've had a bit of sense knocked into them. Having your daughter dumped in front of you and being told she could have just been killed can do that do a body huh? IMO, I think Zoe's taking this well. Better than Wash might have. Can you image the look on his face? And no. Jayne's a regular teddy bear compared to Riddick. Just wait to see what I've got in store for them next! I had to go Google the reference. I've tended to stick to MacBeth and Midsummer Night's Dream as far as Shakespheare goes. Not as familiar with the other plays. And Much Ado didn't even come within a six hour drive of my town when it went through theatres. I was looking forward to that too. But you're right. They do love to snark at each other. I think that's my favorite kind of couple.

Rachet: I think Zoe's head is a little too level to try to commit suicide by Riddick at this point. That and shock. I would imagine shock had something to do with it. I don't have kids myself, but the standing arrangement with most of my friends that do is that if their kid insults me or back talks and the parent isn't around, they're getting a talking to and possible a frog march over to mom. That usually only happens once or twice before they get told to listen to me and behave. Works all around, so long as it's not abused. And I think in this case, Riddick definitely has a reason. Really. What man wants to be jumped by a strange little girl? (Don't answer that please)

Beth Weasley: Hahahahah! I just about fell out of my chair. There needs to be a roadside. "Don't tease the Riddick" or something like that. Right next to "Don't mock the Reader. She can kill you with her brain." Lol!

Translations:  
_y__ǎ__ng__n__ǚ_ -adopted daughter

_bi__à__n__hu__à__n__m__ò __c__è__ -_to change unpredictably **/** unpredictable **/** erratic **/** treacherous

_Jen mei nai-shing duh fwo-tzo-_ Extraordinarily impatient Buddha

_ge ge-_ big brother

_w__ō __x__ī__n_-to feel irritated without being able to express it **/** to bear a silent grudge **/** to feel warm inside (Southern Mandarin)

_Shun-sheng duh gao-wah _-Holy testicle Tuesday

_Cao-_fuck

_feng le_- crazy

_zhu__ō __b__è__n_-clumsy **/** awkward **/** lacking skill

_Wu de tyen a-_ Dear God in heaven

*Sadomasochism-a sexual perversion characterized by pleasure in being subjected to pain or humiliation especially by a love object

*schadenfreude-enjoyment obtained from the troubles of others

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	28. Chapter 28

Ch. 28

_I'm gonna make you let go_

_Of what you tried to withhold_

_And I can promise it won't be long_

_Yes I can promise_

_Boy, you better pray_

_We don't seek you out, no_

_You better hope_

_We might lose control, no_

"You Better Pray" The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

For a moment Riddick considered letting them know he could smell them. It would be very entertaining, to see the reactions to that little revelation. Or to the one about his hearing. But as long as they didn't know, he still had the advantage. And the roil of apprehension, fear, and anger coupled with the mutters and whispers of the crew in the galley was too useful to lose right now. While they didn't know he could hear them, they could shield themselves from River, but not from him. He paused halfway down the hall, tucking himself into a pocket of shadow and leaning back so he was just a little better hidden.

The merc was complaining, being hounded by his crewmates for ducking out of whatever conversation they'd had last night. Must of have been interesting, 'cause the voices were rising and falling with every evidence of working themselves into a good argument. He frowned, waiting for them to stop talking about how Jayne should have stuck around and move on to the main issue. He was disappointed though. Just as the gun hand started in on a rant about how much he didn't want to be hearing about River's idea of fun and games, the girl herself entered the galley.

He could feel her amusement in his head, and knew that she'd cut the man off on purpose. It was dead quiet in the galley now, and he shook his head before stepping out of his shadow and crossing the remaining distance down the hall and into the room. River met his eyes from her place at the opposite hatch, and though her face was blank he could feel the laugh building in her as the crew realized he was there. Hearts raced, breath caught, and River was skimming their thoughts as they each asked themselves exactly how long the pair had been in earshot. He shook his head, smirked, and headed for one of the empty chairs. It wasn't until he was seated; River across from him, that he realized the food on the table didn't smell edible at all. He glanced up at her and she made a face before reaching for a mug and the coffee pot.

"_Ge ge_ cannot cook. Safer to stick to coffee when it is his turn to make breakfast." She ignored the sputtered laughter around her and her brother's indigent yelp as she handed him the mug. He raised an eyebrow at her, still wishing it were darker in here so he could take his goggles off, but knowing she'd get the idea.

A second involuntary breath nearly made him sneeze, and the animal sat up as it realized something. ::This smell…:: he muttered.

She rolled her eyes and snagged a roll from the half empty basket. It was the only thing that looked edible on the entire table. ::She knows. Jaguar fed her the scent while on the Destroyer. And later on the _Hound_.:: She made a face. ::Disgust equals Simon's cooking.::

They were drawing stares and odd looks, but he didn't care so long as they weren't whispering, and seeing as River wasn't looking irritated, they must not be thinking anything too obnoxious. He grabbed for a roll himself, found a jar of honey with his nose somewhere down the table, and nodded at the Doc. "Mind passing the honey there?"

The man twitched and his face started turning darker, but he did as asked. Jayne shook his head and waggled his knife at the man, earning a glare from the Captain. The rangy gun hand looked unrepentant, and Riddick found himself warming to the man, just a little.

"Simon's cook'n may be awful, but River ever offers to feed you, I'd suggest starvation as the first choice." Zoe was nursing her own mug, a half empty plate of whatever it was still sitting in front of her. The only person who looked to be showing any enthusiasm at all for the food in front of her was Sierra, and she seemed to have more of an interest in molding it into small mountains than in eating it. Across the table, burnt sugar and steel rose from River, and in his mind she twitched right off the branch of the tree she was perched in. He stared. The crew laughed.

She hunched her shoulders and muttered. "Knows she can't cook. Don't have to rub it in."

The Captain waved a hand at her, too busy laughing to bother to try and speak. Kaylee finally manage to get herself under control enough to not choke herself. "It's just, you can do anything River. But hand you a kettle of water and you'd manage to burn it." And the mechanic lost herself in giggles again. River sighed and picked at her roll, ignoring the look Riddick was giving her and the poking he was doing at the edges of her mind. Not that he was any better. Meat on a knife over open flame was about the extent of his culinary knowledge. She snorted in his mind and showed him an image of all the prepackaged meals she'd gotten for them on the skyplex. He shook his head, and realized the crew had stopped laughing to stare at them.

"Yes?" He drew the word out; pulling a shiv from his belt and slicing open his roll. Oddly enough, that didn't net him as much fear as it did speculation. A glance at River confirmed it. This had to do with what she'd picked up on last night, and she was still leaving him to figure out for himself. No matter. At least they weren't prodding for answers. The girl nodded and curled up with her back to the animal, satisfaction and amusement fairly dripping off of her.

The crew looked at each other, back at the two at the end of the table, and clamped their collective mouth shut. Interesting that. Something either he or River had said the night before must have sunk in. It was about time. Now maybe he'd actually be able to get a read on these people and see just how they operated when the air wasn't full of tension and hostility. He almost asked River if she'd help with that, but she was refusing before he could fully formulate the thought. ::Know better. The girl is biased. If he decides in the end that he does not want to tolerate, to accept them, then she will be sad but she will go. But she will not try to color opinion.:: Warmth all out of keeping with the chilly façade she was still projecting on the outside flooded through him and he could smell the sorrow under the words. The animal swiped at the man with velvet paws and told him to straighten his shit out. He'd said it himself, he'd been able to work with people before, even hooked himself into good teams a time or two. No reason he couldn't take a stab at it again.

Silk and vanilla drifted across the table towards him, and he tipped his head to the side to see River smiling down at the roll in her hands. He shook his head. Domesticated, that's what he was.

::Not,:: She replied quietly. ::Still fierce. But might have a chance at family now, instead of only enemies.::

Shrugging, ignoring the glances from the other end of the table, he drizzled honey over his roll and reached for the coffee. Only time would tell after all.

~HHYFN~

Mal and Jayne caught up to him just as he was leaving the galley. River had already gone ahead, arm hooked into Inara's and her mind blocking whatever she had planned with the woman. He had a distinct feeling that he should be hiding all his blades from her. Or maybe his clothes. She'd said something about plots to make the men run around naked. Not something he planned on letting happen. Walling those thoughts up in mind, along with the giggles of the girl, he stopped and waited for the other two. They didn't look especially nervous, and their scents weren't giving much away. Good.

"Seems ta me," the Captain started, hooking thumbs into his belt. "You got a whole lotta knives strapped on your person there." Riddick just raised an eyebrow. The other man shifted uncomfortably before continuing. "Could always use a good hand in a fight."

Jayne snorted and shook his head as he dropped a hand to the gun on his hip. "What Capt'n trying not ta tell ya is we get shot. Lots. Why you think he puts up with that Core boy as medic?" He snapped the holster open and Riddick tensed slightly, but when the other man drew the gun it was only to flip it around in his palm and hold it out. Frowning, the ex-convict took it and turned it over. Well cared for, with a couple of obvious modifications. Apparently there was only so much you could do to the basic design of a gun made for projectiles. Three seconds later he had the clip out and was holding the rest of the dismantled pieces between his fingers. It had definitely been a while, but some things just stuck. He looked up at the two men, slow smile puling its way across his face, and was mildly surprised to see approval there instead of the nerves he'd expected.

"Well, guess that answers that," Mal looked at Jayne and shrugged. "Best get him kitted out then. General stock for now." Looking back at Riddick he nodded and turned to go. "We'll have to see if there's anything particular like that you'll be wantin' to get on your own. Not usually close enough for knife work. You manage not ta kill us all the next few days, we'll see about workin' you into crew rotation." And then he was gone, back to the mess and out the other side.

Riddick heard him yelling for Kaylee, but was a little too surprised at the man's words to bother listening very hard. He shot a glance at Jayne, who was leaning up against the bulkhead and giving him a very familiar look. It was the ones mercs usually had when they'd caught up to him and were calculating their odds of survival in the encounter and tallying it up against all the money that was calling their names. He raised an eyebrow.

"Told the Cap'n, girl wouldn't pick a man what couldn't keep up with 'er in a fight. Saw that on Persephone." Jayne watched as Riddick put the gun back together and looked it over when it was handed back to him. "Man what handles guns like you though, that's trainin'. That's military of some sort. Wouldn'a pegged her for pick'n someone familiar with a piece like you. She don't much like guns."

Riddick shrugged. For all this man's lack of intelligence in other things, he certainly had one thing down pat. Blood and guns and death were his areas of expertise. He hadn't brought it up to the level of art form River had, or himself; but there had to be a reason he'd survived so long in his line of work and Riddick doubted it was entirely due to the Doc's skill. Propping one shoulder back up against the bulkhead, he crossed his arms and grinned, deciding to take a shot and see where it went. "Been years since I wore a uniform. Not much into guns myself. Blades, they're quiet. Sneak up, find the sweet spot, move on. Or make it last. Can't accidently kill someone with a shiv. Gotta decide to get in range and make the hit. Guns? Whole pile of trouble waiting to happen in the wrong hands."

The gun hand shrugged and turned to follow the Captain. "Might as well go through the stores now." He stopped and looked back. "You com'n?"

Riddick levered himself up off the wall and stalked up next to the man. Interesting, how he took the talk of working with a blade in stride. Something of his curiosity must have shown on his face, because the other man chuckled as he led the murderer through the galley and down the corridor. "You ever hear Moonbrain talk on blades? You sound just like 'er" He chuckled again, shaking his head. Riddick found himself liking this man even better. "That sweet spot though, what's that about?"

And yet another opportunity to poke for a reaction. The animal fairly purred in anticipation. River, who'd been quiet up till now in his head, rolled her eyes and sat up where she'd been stretched out next to the stream. The man, head on her knee and feet propped up on the twitching animal, ignored them all. This wasn't his idea of fun, it was the animal's. Riddick smiled again, but Jayne was ahead of him on the stairs and couldn't see it. "Fourth lumbar down," he rumbled. "Abdominal aorta. It's a gusher." They were coming down into the common room, and incense and apples and rain and leather told him he'd found Inara and River and Zoe. They were going through some boxes of who knew what, but stopped to stare when he finished his statement. "Cut the blood with peppermint schnapps, gets rid of the copperish taste."

The women froze. River sighed in his head and out loud. "Likes it better straight in the winter. Warmer."

Lemons bloomed in the air as the crew looked between the two. Riddick kept his laugh to himself and River just shook her head. Finally Jayne looked from one to the other and shuddered. "Crazier 'n loons you two are, ya know that?"

River shrugged, face blank, but he could feel a twinge in her mind, worry that their little display had further damaged their chances with these people. Riddick sighed internally and the animal moved over to lay it's head on the girl's legs next to where the man was propped up. ::They'll just have to get used to it.::

She glowered at him, snatched a portable Cortex from where it was lying on the table, and chucked it at his face. He caught it and growled. "Out," she muttered, ignoring the looks of her family. Surprise. Approval from the women. What on earth were they doing down here anyways? "Girl is busy. He is not allowed to poke his nose where it's not wanted."

Riddick growled and hefted the Cortex unit. "River you are all sort of fucked up, you know that?"

A hand on his shoulder made him turn. Jayne's face was mildy panicked. "You want ta be go'n now. Those three take a dislikin' to someone pokin' into their business; you won't eat for a week. Or shower or anythin' else they decide they don't want you do'n. Ruttin' womenfolk are crazier in packs."

Riddick allowed himself to be herded past the girls and on up the stairs on the other side of the room. Simon was giving him a look of speculation from inside the infirmary, and he lifted a lip in a silent snarl at the man. The Doc shook his head and went back to what he was doing. In his mind, River snorted out a laugh before walling up her thoughts again. He growled and turned to glare at her, but she was back to digging in the boxes on the low table in front of her and only Inara was looking his way. There was assessment in that gaze, a measuring he hadn't felt in a long time. Still grumbling to himself, he let Jayne pass him on the landing and followed him out into the cargo bay. Man was right. They were crazier in packs.

~HHYFN~

He ended up walking away from the weapons locker with three guns. A pair of heavy pistols that looked to be cousins to the gun Jayne had on his hip and another one, shorter barreled but of the same caliber. He'd be able to strap the bigger guns to his hip or leg, but the more compact one was going to end up in a holster attached to his harness for the blades. Jayne had shrugged at the choices, declared them adequate, considering none of the guns in the locker were deemed special enough for anyone's personal arsenal on board, and shown him where the ammo was stored. There weren't any spare cleaning kits, but a poke in River's direction told him that she had one tucked away with the guns she rarely brought out. He'd seen them of course, when he'd helped the Captain pull the last of the gear up, and if that wasn't a mute declaration of trust on the part of the crew he didn't know what was. She shrugged, but he could feel the pleasure and happiness coming off her at that thought.

Shaking his head in amusement and ignoring the odd look the gun hand was giving him, he went to go get his new arsenal stowed. He wasn't sure if the thought was his or if it came from River, but it occurred to him that they were showing him an equal, if not greater, level of trust by outfitting him like this. He was still mulling over the implications of that when he came back out into the cargo bay and found Jayne down by the weight bench, rearranging the disks on the bar. He raised an eyebrow and slipped up behind the man. "You really bench that much?" The units were in old pounds, not kilos, but he still knew the math.

The other man yelped, leapt a foot in the air, and came down facing him with a hand on his empty holster. "Jiminy Christmas," he gasped. "How the gorram hell you do that?"

Riddick laughed and glanced over at the hatch that led to the common room. The women were gathered there, Inara and River with smirks tugging at their mouths, Zoe shaking her head and her lips twitching. In his mind River ruffled the ears of the animal before going back to the stream back. ::Boys will be boys,:: she said, before turning around and disappearing into the room behind her. The other two followed, shaking their heads and muttering something to the same effect.

"T'aint for me anyways," Jayne was grumbling behind him. He must be more used to women watching him like a piece of meat, a thought that sent River tittering at nothing in the other room.

Riddick shrugged and checked the weights. "Looks about right." So saying he shrugged out of the harness, lay down, and worked himself into place. Be good to be doing something with his body again. Maybe that had been part of the problem, going stir crazy with nothing to do. All this waiting, travelling and not being stuck in cryo was different than having only his mind active. In cryo, he was the only one awake. No one to poke and prod and judge. Here he wasn't stuck, but neither was anyone else, and the continuous company had grated. The lack of anything do with his body hadn't been helping.

The girl'd been trying to get a lock on Kyra, swimming the River as she called it. But so far she'd come up with squat. The Cortex hadn't yielded any information either, although she said she was crippled there by the lack of security protocols the ships computers had and the need to keep them safe outweighed the need for information at this point. What could they do with it anyways? Their course was set.

So they were back to square one. Waiting. Couldn't touch River. Exercise was the next best thing to keep himself active. At least he could work out some of the frustrations on things that couldn't hit back. Keep his mind off the problems they were facing.

::Or the girl he needs to keep himself from .::

Jayne had to make a snatch at the weights as Riddick nearly lost his grip and his laughter rang through the empty cargo bay. The gun hand just shook his head and waited till the ex-convict had a better hold before letting go. "Rutt'n moonbrains, the pair of you," he mumbled.

~HHYFN~

Dim starlight glanced off of tiny flecks of glitter imbedded in pale pink lacquer. River sighed, wiggled her toes again, and felt oddly disturbed by the unevenness of it all. She was still regrowing a couple of toenails, and while Sierra had insisted on covering those in polish along with the other eight, they were neither the proper size, nor where they symmetrical. The left foot only had half a pinky nail, which all things considered, didn't matter as much as the missing index nail on her right foot. Leaning forward to pull the offending digit away from the rest, the girl wrinkled her nose. At least all the excess polish helped camouflage the defect.

"You'll get stuck like that."

River rolled her eyes as she turned her head to watch Riddick slip onto the bridge, goggles up and a smirk tugging at his lips. He had a mug of something in one hand, probably whiskey laced with tea, and she snorted as the animal showed her Jayne's probable reaction once he discovered his secret stash had been found. She'd felt him, rummaging around in the galley and putting water on to heat. He hadn't volunteered for any cooking duties as of yet, and since Captain Daddy hadn't worked him into the chore schedule either, anything he made in there only had to be tolerated by himself. And maybe her as well if he decided it had been too long since she ate. He'd discovered that aboard the _Hound_, her tendency to skip meals, and it was more pronounced here with greater distractions to keep her from the table.

He had, in the course of the past four days, brought her food on the bridge, pulled her out of the engine room and into the galley, and picked her up and carried her out of a cargo hold where she'd hidden with Sierra. That had occasioned a squalling fit on the part of the little girl and an entire bottle of pink glittery nail lacquer spilled all over the deck. It had taken glares on River and Zoe's part, snickering from Inara and Kaylee, muttered complaints from Jayne and a considerably raised voice from Mal to get things straightened out. Cargo holds had been declared off limits to further messy girly activities, Riddick was asked to stop picking people up and tossing them around when simply _talking_ to them would probably work just as well, and Sierra had been turned over her mother's knee and given five hard swats for sneaking into the Frye bunk and stealing Kaylee's only bottle of polish.

The bonded pair had spent the majority of the encounter at opposite ends of the room, glaring bloody murder at each other and having a mental wrestling match of all four personalities as each vied for dominance. None of them had won, because Mal had come over to her and yelled in her face just as Zoe went to glare at Riddick, and neither of the two would ever know just how close they came to a violent and bloody end at that moment. The matching growls from the pair had sent lemons and astonishment flooding through the room. It was Kaylee who'd calmed things down, promising that she didn't mind, she never wore the stuff anyways, and why didn't they get Sierra some nail polish of her own while they were on Sihnon?

He wasn't bringing food this time. She'd made a point of showing up at mealtimes ever since, even if she didn't eat much. Her stomach was still cramping, and she had lost most of her appetite anyways. He worried at her in her mind though; and she felt bad about shutting him out of the part of her dealing with the fact that she was, indeed, a woman. And with the fact that in the normal course of things it came with a great deal of discomfort. There was nothing he could really do to help anyways, and she had refused Simon's offer of willow bark derivatives or other medications. Violently.

The mug was set down with a decided clunk on the edge of the console, and she realized he'd actually been carrying two. He hadn't been hiding the second either, she'd just been so caught up in her thoughts and the distraction of her uneven toes that she hadn't been paying complete attention.

The jaguar bumped its head up under her hand while the man shook his head. ::Slipping girl.::

Just for that, she leaned forward a little further, till she could hook her shoulders under her knees and touch the floor with her fingers. The reaction on his part was both predictable and satisfactory and she laughed out loud at the frustration and arousal that ripped through his mind and into hers. Grumbling, he dropped into the co-pilots seat and propped his feet up on the edge of the console. "Tease," he muttered.

She raised an eyebrow, sat back up, and let her eyes rake over him. It wasn't a hardship, not really. She hadn't been able to find very many of the tanks he favored on her shopping expedition on Hibal, but she'd gotten a few plain dark t-shirts, and the one he was currently wearing was plastered to his body. He'd taken to the using the free weights Jayne kept in the main cargo bay with almost more fervor than he had the set on the _Hound_. They both knew that it was for a multitude of reasons, and keeping fit was only one of them. She wasn't using the time to drill him in terminology anymore. They had enough space on the bridge for that, and for mock run throughs of the most ridiculous situations she could come up with. She'd tried to make him understand that the stupid and impossible was what you expected where _Serenity _was concerned. She still didn't think he believed her.

Snorting into his mug at her train of thought Riddick dropped his feet to the deck and pulled up the Cortex on his console. He was getting better with some of the more technical Chinese characters, and the bond was helping a great deal in her efforts to teach. She hadn't managed to drop the language into his head entire so far, but he was picking it up at a far greater rate than most adult men could be expected to learn. The jaguar nudged her off her perch in the tree for that thought, and she stuck her tongue out at him as she stood and reached for her tea. He ignored her, gaze fixed on the screen in front of him, but the arousal hadn't gone away and she was about to make it worse. After all, he'd been flaunting himself in front of her for the past four days, what with the weights and the abuse he was giving Jayne's punching bag. She let that thought drift over to him, and had the satisfaction of watching his shoulders tighten as he held the breath he'd just drawn and then let it out in a slow rumble like an avalanche of dark chocolate over her ears. Gooseflesh crawled across her skin, and she could have drowned in the vanilla that flooded the room.

And there was the main reason for the excessive bouts of physical activity. Not only did it let him work out his aggression on the weights and bag, of which they either needed to find one of their own to hang in the shuttle or buy a new one for Jayne, but it helped tamp down some of the perpetual frustration that came from not being allowed to touch or taste the bits of her that were driving him the most crazy. They had, in fact, kept contact to a bare minimum. It was equal parts so that they would keep the score even in their little war; and so that they wouldn't just give in and rip each other's clothes off in the middle of whatever room they were currently stuck in and crew be damned if they got in the way.

There was a flavor to his mind though, at times like those. A nagging undercurrent she couldn't get a hold of. As tight as she was wound around the jaguar and however anchored in the tree she may be, he was keeping something with the man. She hadn't tried to push for it; he was on edge enough as it was. And he was doing her the courtesy of keeping away from the worries she had of what would happen when Mal found out who Paul was. They kept slipping to the surface; she was investing far more energy in trying to hide what she thought _he_ would do when he met the man. And if he found out-No. Bad. Don't go there and he can't catch wind of it.

He wasn't the only one frustrated. She'd been resorting to meditation, not the full drop from his mind that had precipitated her near death, but the kind she used around the crew to recenter her mind. It slowed the heart rate, let her shunt the extra emotions from the others aside, and enabled her to find that wellspring of calm at her center that she so desperately needed. It had the added bonus of driving Riddick stark raving mad if she did it in the shuttle, mostly naked. That was usually when he'd go out to the cargo bay and take it all out on the punching bag. Poor punching bag, she almost felt sorry for it. Almost.

Katas were her other outlet, when sitting and breathing deeply and locking herself up in her mind didn't help. She'd ignored all of Simon's protests about being on her feet and reinjuring them, declaring the activity more needful than whole feet. She had relented though, and worn shoes. Her _ge ge _ had been very adamant on that point, and she wasn't even supposed to be barefoot now, except he was locked in the engine room with Kaylee doing things that had no relation to engine repair.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on which member of the crew you were, the kata's didn't help matters much in the long run either. Because she inevitably chose to do them while Riddick was beating the _go se_ out of the equipment in the corner and if they'd had the noses for it they would have never gotten the mixed smell of spiced musk and vanilla out of their noses after that. As it was, they could tell when the tension in the room was rising to near dangerous levels, and had started actually drawing straws for who had to go out and break up the fight before it happened. They were all dead certain things would come to blows in the end; even Inara, who was rapidly revising her opinion of the whole debacle being a game.

River locked that last thought down before it could drift over to Riddick, who'd been listening with half a mental ear as he worked his way through a list of docking procedures for Core planets. He twitched around, almost looked at her when he caught the fact that she was hiding something from him, but refused to complete the motion. The girl giggled and in his head her clothing changed, from the pants and tunic she'd taken from the merc woman's dresser back on the _Hound_ to the dress she was in now. He could see the colors in his mind, if she worked hard enough to show him, and the sudden stillness of his body in its seat was well worth the effort.

He had, after all, cut up all her underwear. And then this morning, she'd discovered that he'd somehow woken before her and hidden every pair of pants she owned. She'd stuck to them the past few days, refusing to wander the ship with no underwear under a skirt, which is what he'd been aiming for in the first place. The jaguar hadn't denied it, and the man had just shoved image after image in her direction of what he would do to her if she did. If she hadn't been bleeding that is.

So, irritated and grumbling at him as he laughed and pulled on his own clothes, she'd kicked the bra and thong that he _hadn't_ cut to ribbons a little further under the bed and gone digging for her dresses. She hadn't worn this one in years. It made her look virginal, vulnerable. Innocent. All states of being she had been gradually leaving behind, starting first with the innocence and working her way up the list. The fact that it was a pale shade of pink didn't matter as much as the fact that it was about the same value as her skin tone. The little bolero jacket with cap sleeves that went with it was white, but the overall effect had earned her a deep, bone rumbling growl.

He hadn't quite had the willpower to step away when she moved up to lay her ear to his chest, and they'd both nearly lost the war as the man, the animal, the girl and the weapon started to meld inside their heads. She'd felt her worries start to slip away in the heat of the furnace, and had an odd glimmering of something that might have been concern from him before it too, ran and puddled around their feet. His fingers had been buried in her hair, one hand wrapped around her waist and she'd been flush against his body. He'd been hard, everywhere, and she'd let her arms creep up to his shoulders and then to his neck as she felt warmth spread through her belly and down.

A trace of old blood had brought them both back down to sanity, and she'd ripped herself from his grasp and shot out of the shuttle faster than thought, cursing herself, her body, and Shepherd's faulty God as she ran for Inara and buried herself in arms of comfort and understanding. Luckily the Companion had been alone in the spare shuttle, going over her report for the Training House, and she'd let River weep herself out without pressing her with questions. Riddick had stayed in the shuttle, and she knew that when she finally went back to it she'd probably find it trashed. Fury and frustration had driven him straight down to the makeshift weight room, and she blessed Jayne forever when he came down to spot the other man on weights.

That had been three hours ago, and both had missed breakfast, a fact the crew had wisely kept their mouths shut on. They had taken the warnings to heart, that second night in space, and though they still watched and curiosity followed them both everywhere they went on the ship, they had kept their questions and wonderings mostly to themselves. They still couldn't hide everything from her, but none except Jayne suspected that Riddick's hearing was far better than he let on.

The man in question snorted and glanced up at her face, letting her feel his amusement and the question that lurked foremost in his mind. She unbent enough to drop a kiss on his head, which needed shaving again, and danced away from him before he could reach for her. ::Nearly done,:: she told him as she slipped back into her chair and brought up her own Cortex screen. ::You'll know when.::

The man tossed a rock into the stream and the jaguar rubbed its jaw over her knees. She grabbed for the tree as the motion of the huge animal nearly pushed her off her perch and drew her legs up to her chest, not caring what happened to the dress in the process. He kept his back to her, stubborn to the end. She loved him for it. And hated herself. Why did her body have to choose now of all times to start bleeding uncontrollably? Why, when things were so unstable?

::Does it matter?:: Riddick's voice was gentle, a complete contrast to the tension still humming through his body. ::It's gonna happen again. And again. I've lived through worse. So have you.:: He lifted one shoulder in a shrug and finally looked her way. Silver eyes gleamed, and she let herself relax, just a bit. ::It's the bond River, don't pretend you don't know.:: And he lifted the arm with the cut on it just far enough for her to see before reaching for his mug of tea. ::Makes it possible for me to stay. Makes it possible for me to hold out. And it'll make it better later. 'Sides,:: He grinned at her over the edge of the mug. ::You'll break first.::

River snarled. He was right, damn him. It wasn't just a war. Whatever label they wanted to put on it, was the outward expression of their frustrations. Not the coping mechanism Inara had thought. The true method of coping was buried in their minds. In the bond. A strong jungle tree in front of a cave that sheltered primal fire on one side, a stream fed from a well driven deep into bedrock on the other. They hadn't slept in each other's arms since the night he'd kicked her out of bed; but their reflections of self tangled and untangled their incorporeal bodies from each other on waking and sleeping just the same. They followed each other around the ship, not by ear or nose or even physicality, but through the same bond. They had, if possible, knit themselves just a little closer, what with the joint frustrations of dealing with the crew and their inability to touch.

It was his smug confidence though, that really irked. She had no intentions of being the first to snap. None whatsoever. The jaguar was feeding her steel and vanilla now along with the apples and rain she knew made up her base scent, but it was the faintest trace of old blood that was the final straw. She wanted it gone. She would make sure it was gone. Still growling at Riddick, she stalked towards the door. His amusement and curiosity followed her. She was blocking him again, because she knew what he'd do, just for the sake of mucking it up, if he found out the entirety of her latest plan. He'd been thinking about getting cleaned up after all.

::And just where do you think you're going,:: he asked as he slipped up behind her, tea and the Cortex forgotten.

"Stinks in here," she muttered. "_Hwoon dahn_ is drying off and the sweat stench is very much undesirable at this moment. She was planning on a shower anyways."

The first half of the plan worked like the proverbial dream. Quickly as she could she blocked the second one up behind walls of steel and razors. But she needn't have bothered. He wasn't looking deeper than the surface at the moment. She caught his realization half a moment before it solidified in his head, and she took off, bare feet slapping at the deck plates and her shriek of real alarm ringing from the walls. Jayne's bunk popped open and he yelled at her to shut up. But Riddick had roared in outrage at the insult and implied challenge and the gun hand's words were lost in the cacophony. Through the galley and out the other side, leaving a startled Captain and an intrigued Sierra in her wake, River sprinted for the stairs to the common room. He was gaining on her, amusement and anger foremost in his mind as he yelled. "Don't you fucking _dare_ girl!"

She dared. Oh how she dared. And she'd win too. Forgetting this this was just the first half of the maneuver against him; she took the steps in three giant leaps, pausing only on the corner landing before launching herself at the deck below. Riddick was right behind her, and didn't' even bother with the landing, choosing instead to ricochet his body off the bulkhead and turn the motion into a jump that cleared the entire bottom half of the stairs.

River was still getting her balance from her own meeting with the floor, and he caught her as she scrambled to her feet. "Damnit girl, you are all sorts of fucked up," he shouted in her ear as he tossed her towards one of the couches. Zoe had run in from the cargo bay, Inara right behind her, but River didn't have time to deal with the alarm they were throwing off. She had a goal in mind after all. He was half a step from the door to the communal shower room when she landed on his back and got hold of his jaw, throwing all her weight backwards and around and pulling him off balance. He staggered, grabbed for her arms, and she felt herself flying again. She tucked and rolled, bouncing off the wall of one of the passenger dorms and launching herself back at him. But he wasn't there. Her bare feet met the door of the showers instead, just as it slid closed behind him. She yelped as the impact traveled straight to her bones, and landed with an ungraceful thud.

::Bastard,:: she muttered as she picked herself up off the floor, imminently grateful for the pair of shorts she'd managed to dig out of her pile of dresses that morning. Games with Riddick were one thing, but she had no intention of letting the rest of her crew see those bits of her. Now he'd probably take the shorts too. Where was he hiding all of it anyways?

"Fuck you River," he yelled at her through the door, and alarm and anger filled the room as her crew reacted. But she could feel the triumph and the amusement under the indignation in his voice.

She stamped her foot and slammed her fist against the door. "He wishes," she yelled back, burying her satisfaction as deep as she could.

The jaguar nearly lost its balance in the tree and the man doubled over laughing as the girl stood next to him and fumed. Her irritation was real, but it didn't last long, and she shoved her way past her _ge ge_, ignoring the hand he tried to catch her with, and then past the Captain and Jayne as they gaped at her from the stairs. The crew followed her, for all the world like a flock of baby chicks. She stalked into the galley, pulled out the largest basin she could find, then a pitcher only slightly smaller, and started running hot water.

"River…" That was Simon, and needles and vials of drugs drifted at the edges of his brain. She glared at him and headed for the pantry.

"River, what the gorram hell was all that about?" Mal had on his Captain face, and was wondering if he needed to be stocked up in tripwires and traps to keep the two lunatics from treating his ship like a rutting playground. She snorted at the mental image that produced and resurfaced with a sponge in one hand. The jug was as full as was safe, and she tossed the sponge into the basin before gathering the whole lot up and heading for the opposite end of the room and the stairs to the catwalk. Inara met her at the door, holding a towel and grinning in that way only she had. River blushed at what was going through the woman's mind, but let her drop the towel into the basin before starting up the steps.  
"River," the Captain barked. "I don't like repeating myself, ya hear?"

She ignored him and kept going. Behind her, she should feel Inara placing herself in the way of the crew as she said "Just leave her Mal. It'll all be ok."

"How can you-"

She blocked their minds and words from herself and concentrated on making it back to the shuttle without soaking herself. Riddick was shoving smug satisfaction her way as he scraped the bristles from his head and let hot water sluice over his body. She shuddered at the mental images, walled her mind off from him as much as she dared, and bumped the doorpad for the shuttle with her hip. Think he'd beat her at his own game had he?

When Riddick got back to the shuttle some twenty minutes later, freshly shorn, skin glistening with damp and a towel wrapped around his hips for lack of any clean clothing; he found that River had put the place back together again. She'd gotten the couch back where it belonged instead of upside down in the middle of the room, remade the bed, and put the dresser drawers back into their places.

Now she knelt near the back of the shuttle, out of immediate sight of the door should anyone poke their head in, a towel around her own waist and her hair tied up on her head. He stared, watching little rivulets of water run down bare skin as she squeezed out the sponge she was dragging over her neck and down her shoulder before leaning forward to dip it in the basin in front of her. Apples and rain, silk and vanilla, scented soap and just the barest hint of old blood mixed in his nose. She wasn't blocking him anymore, but his brain had shut down entirely. Even the animal lost its balance, and it had fallen out of the tree completely.

She'd played him, the witch, and he'd fallen right into the trap. Her shoulders twitched in acknowledgement of the thought, but she didn't turn around. She just squeezed more water down the other side of her neck, tipping her head to give better access and keep the wayward strands of her hair out of the way.

Riddick choked, made a blind grab for the pile of his clothes she'd left sitting on the edge of the bed, and turned on his heel to stalk out of the shuttle. Her giggles followed him out, and he kept his mind focused on his new target. He had to, so he could keep himself from taking one of the other two options left to him. Go back in there and lose the war; or forget to keep ahold of the towel around his hips so he could wipe the smug look off the Companion's face as she watched his retreat from the safety of the catwalk across the bay.

He had a target after all.

_Cold_ shower.

**Author's Note**_:_ This chapter was torture. I have a goal here, and unfortunately I needed to go through this to get there. I wanted the tension to rise. The crew to start acting like they have a lick of common sense. Oh, and another race for the shower. Cause I could. And so River's family would see the sort of lunacy they've got on their hands. I think this chapter has gone through the most tweaking of any of them so far. Adding bits. Taking others out…rearranging and refining. I hope it works for you. Thanks so much to everyone who'd read, reviewed, faved and followed. Love you all.

As always, they aren't my toys. I wish they were. But no. Don't belong to me. Lawyers lawyers go away!

Shenendoah76209: Glad you liked. I'm going to be playing with them a little more. Keep wanting to do Zoe, but she's so hard. Mal is being disagreeable too. As for the rules, I think there's only one: No sex. And drive each other nuts… Yup. Like their own private Fight Club. Or something…

Sweet Anise: Hahah. I figured Inara would probably have the best grasp on this, what with all the training as Companion and stuff. And no, Simon's not much of a genius. But as he said he's "very smart". You can be head smart and not have a scrap of knowledge on how to deal with people. Leeches? Huh. Gonna have to get that chapter out quick!

Rachet: Ah Rachet. Love you to death. But I'm not doing the animals thing. Not with River at least. She's got the weapon as her second personality. The calculation and cold instinct to do whatever's needed to keep herself safe. She picks things up from Riddick, like contamination, but he gets stuff from her as well. Not doing an animal story here. There are plenty of very good ones about these two, but I want to do something a bit different. I didn't actually come up with this whole war thing with the idea of a mating dance, although it could definitely be seen as such. I wanted personalities to conflict. Desire against restraint. This, I think, is probably one of the first times Riddick's held himself back for the sake of someone else, and he'd not handling it very well.

Translations:

_Ge ge _**: **Brother

_Go se: _ shit/dog shit

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	29. Chapter 29

Ch. 29

_My pulse has been rising, my temples are pounding_

_The pressure is so overwhelming and building_

_So steady now, Freddy, I'm ready to blow_

_What is she, what is she, what is she waiting for?_

"Rev 22:20", Puscifer

Inara knew that whatever was going on in River's head at the moment, it was much more significant for the girl than what was happening to her in the physical. And that, right there, was an indicator of just how distracted the girl was. Her brother was checking her feet in preparation to declaring them fit for service, and the Companion knew that the first thing the girl was going to do was probably give herself a new set of scrapes, cuts, and possibly another missing toenail or two. The girl was indeed graceful, but there was only so much grace could do against unforgiving deck plates when the owner of the body seemed determined to dance herself right into oblivion. And considering the fact that River had had no real means of physical outlet for the past five days, she figured the girl was due for a truly spectacular showing.

She knew Mal, who's side she was leaning against as they propped themselves up against a counter in the infirmary, would disagree. After all, River had been doing her katas, slowly sure, but still. That was movement. And so was that heart stopping scene the day before. But the katas were a special form of meditation; and seeing as she had only been doing them while her counterpart was over in Jayne's makeshift weight room in the corner of the bay, Inara greatly doubted the degree to which they'd been helping the girl. The Companion had stopped to watch the two a few times on her way through the bay She'd trying to stay true to the promise to leave them alone and not shadow them through the ship, but was unable to resist the show for long. She knew she'd been noted, as had the rest of the crew as they inevitably paused whatever they were doing whenever one or both of the pair came through a room.

The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife, and getting worse every day. Every hour since the incident with the showers. That had reeked of some sort of continued argument, and not for the first time, Inara wondered exactly how much of this was playing out in their heads. A very great deal, she supposed. Like now for instance. River was sitting on the table as her brother ran his hands over her feet, ankles, even toes and checked for sore spots. The skin had long healed, but it had been the abuse to the underlying structure that had had the Doctor most worried. The girl herself wasn't displaying any of her usual signs of disturbance at being in this room. Her eyes were locked in the middle distance, and she held herself with a curious sense of calm, almost relaxation. Her fingers were the only things showing involuntary movement, clenching and unclenching on her knees. Inara glanced up at Mal and saw him frowning at the girl and knew that he'd noticed the difference as well. The woman pursed her lips and turned her attention back to River. What was going on in that girl's head?

"Trees and streams," River whispered, startling them all. "Jaguar's waiting to pounce, don't climb his tree. Don't come near the base. He'll fall on you. Can't let him fall on you." She turned to look at the pair against the counters, then over at Kaylee where she stood in the door and looked worried. Inara realized the girl's pupils were blown, and there was a flush building on her cheeks. "Stand in the stream; let the water wash it away. Can't sneak up on you in the stream." She twitched; a full body maneuver that yanked her foot right out of her brother's hand, and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Not long now." Her voice was rough, like nails over slate, and Inara found herself shrinking away from it and a little tighter into Mal's side. He in turn wrapped his arm a little more firmly around her shoulders and eyed his Reader like she was a grenade about to explode. And she was, just not one of destruction. Inara found herself very glad that Riddick had refused to leave the shuttle so far that day. Another tense, violent and sexually frustrated time bomb was _not _what they needed at the moment. With their luck, the infirmary would end up destroyed, possibly the common room as well, and the only two who'd walk away from the encounter intact would be River and Riddick. And even that outcome could be up in the air.

She was suddenly very, very grateful that Sierra was down for a nap. This was not an environment for a child to be anywhere _near_.

"River," Simon's voice was cautious, exasperated too. "If you won't speak sense, will you at least hold still? I'm almost done."

The girl twitched again, but gave her brother the foot back. In the doorway, Kaylee relaxed and her face took on a hopeful expression. A glance up at Mal's face showed that he was still waiting for the timer to tick down, and Inara found herself agreeing. Whatever the talk of jaguars and trees and streams had really been about, it had done nothing to ease the tension in the room.

Except in River. The girl had actually dropped her chin to her chest and was swaying in place on the bed.

"Now if that's not about the most creepify'n thing I seen all day, I don't know what is." Jayne had appeared in the doorway behind Kaylee, and the mechanic moved further into the room so he could brace his arms up over his head and watch the proceedings. Out in the common room Zoe was standing with her arms crossed and a stern look on her face. But she was glaring at Jayne, not River, and it took Inara a moment to notice the strap across his chest wasn't for one of his guns. The guitar head poking up over his shoulder confirmed it. _Già__dào__hǎo__chù_. He had to choose now to bring that thing out, when he hadn't touched it since Persephone. The sinking feeling in Inara's stomach intensified.

Simon took one look at the man and groaned. "Should I even bother putting anything away, or do I need to get out the splints and ace wraps?

River just giggled, patted her brother on the head, and hopped off the table to go stand in front of Jayne. He scowled down at her. "Forty plat says your feet give out first girl," he grumbled. Inara glanced up at her husband and got a resigned head shake in return. It was an old game, and there was no stopping it this time. At least the merc had quit trying to kill the Reader. They had a new _shiong-muh duh duang-ren_ on board for that.

The Reader grinned and started shoving the gun hand back out of the room. "The girl will win. Too much excess energy."

That earned her a collective shudder from everyone in earshot. Except Kaylee that is. She clapped her hands and bounced on her feet. "Oh good. It's been ages since we've seen you dance River!"

Inara shared an eye roll with Mal and Zoe as they followed the girl out of the infirmary and up the steps to the cargo bay. Simon was shaking his head and muttering, but he picked up the tail of the train of people and when she looked back at him the Companion saw a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. As much as he worried about his sister, there would be no denying her this and he knew it. Might as well enjoy the show.

They took up their places around the bay, Mal, Inara and Zoe on the center of catwalk overlooking the room. They'd come up the port side steps, not that Inara was under any illusions that Riddick didn't know they were there. The man had a way about him of watching people, and she was beginning to suspect that even without River and the possibility of them sharing information in their heads, he caught far more of what was going on around him than most men. Still, courtesy dictated that until he decided to show himself, they shouldn't be going stomping past his quarters if it could be helped.

Simon and Kaylee had climbed up onto a stack of crates, Kaylee with Simon sitting down between her knees and her hands rubbing idly at his shoulders. Inara spared a moment to wonder if she'd told Simon about her condition, or if they were both keeping uncharacteristically mute on the topic. Watching Simon lean his head back to smile up at his wife and trace a finger along her jaw, Inara decided he probably knew. And it was wise of them to keep quiet for now. Who knew what they were flying into? What this expedition on Sihnon would yield? Would Mal truly leave his Reader and her man to take on Blue Sun by themselves? She thought that, in the end, it wouldn't be just the two of them. Mal had adopted River after all, and she knew that whether he wanted to or not, he was starting to see Riddick as part of the crew. A very violent, very temperamental part of the crew.

A discordant twang interrupted her thoughts, and she looked down at Jayne, who was fiddling with the pegs on the guitar head, bringing it into tune. River was seated on the floor and her hands wrapped around her outstretched feet. Inara took a moment to be grateful they'd managed to dig some of her old shorts out. That skirt she was wearing would flare wide after all. Inara had a feeling that Riddick had somehow been behind the girl's sudden urge to go digging through boxes of clothes that had been set aside for Sierra to grow into, but the look on the girl's face as she tore through the pile of fabric had been a solid deterrent against any questions. And besides, they had all agreed to quit pestering the pair.

She'd brought it up to Zoe that morning, before the men had shown up to breakfast and while Kaylee was doing her morning walkthrough of the engine room. The first mate had agreed, tossing in the idea that River's outfit from the day before had played some part in the drama unfolding in front of them. What it might be, neither was sure, but it was about the most innocent and virginal thing the girl owned. The fact that she'd come running to Inara shortly after the ship switched to day cycle, wearing it and positively reeking of pheromones and frustration only added to the woman's suspicions that there was far more going on in that shuttle than any of them suspected.

The alarming scene concerning the shower had only clinched that thought. Zoe had hmmmed and agreed, then brought out the most startling fact yet. It was one Inara hadn't known about because she'd decided to take advantage of everyone hiding from the duo and pulled Mal down to their bunk to let off some of her own frustrations. River had slept in her old bunk that night, a thing Zoe only knew because she'd seen the girl slip up the stairs trailing a blanket and a pillow about the same time the first mate had gone to get Sierra her last glass of water before bed. Interesting that. Had he kicked her out, or had she left on her own? How far was this silent game of theirs going to go?

The man had to have a breaking point. She knew River was reaching hers. But as reined in as he was keeping himself, how bad would the fallout be when it all came to a head? Neither woman knew, and neither wanted to be anywhere nearby when the man found out the girl's menses was over. Quiet plots had begun, to get the rest of the crew out of the way when it happened. Sure money said Mal and Simon would both try to interfere, and neither was particularly graceful in word or deed when they were angry over something. Which they surely were in this case.

That brought her around to one of her previous thoughts. Inara mulled it over, letting Mal and Zoe's conversation wash over and around her as she watched the girl below take a few deceptively careful steps in time with Jayne's plucking of a pair of strings. G major, modulating down to D. He never told her what he'd be playing, and this was the first time in a very long time, not counting the months she'd been missing, that the two had staged a show like this for the crew. Usually it was much more spontaneous. Jayne noodling away at the guitar and River keeping time with her body somewhere nearby. There had been a time when the Companion had wondered if there was anything between the two. The big merc had become considerably less hostile to the girl after the broadwave, and his sniping seemed more in the order of something done for form's sake than out of any true dislike.

She'd even thought about asking River at one point, but she'd never gotten the chance. The girl had come to her one day as she worked on reports in the spare shuttle and told her very firmly that she would sooner sell herself out of the Heart of Gold than she would let Jayne touch her that way. There'd been wildness in the girl's eyes as she spoke, a desperation in her voice, and Inara had tried never to think on the subject again. Whatever was between the two, now that she saw the Reader with Riddick, she realized it was far more akin to a sibling relationship than anything romantic. It helped that Jayne had never given any indication of interest in the girl in that way.

And again, it circled back to Riddick. Inara was watching River as she spun and stepped through something that looked like a cousin to a waltz below, but her mind wasn't fully on the girl. She was still trying to fit together the puzzle of the self-proclaimed murderer. It was hard to assimilate the man who'd woken in the pantry roaring in pain with the one who had cut his hands open on his own blade; and then with the one that had been stalking the ship for the past four days. And yet, somehow, all the pieces fit. There was still much unknown and unpredictable about him, but Inara was holding to the hope that, once River was done bleeding and the two of them stopped prodding each other for reactions, she'd get to see the man as he was instead of as circumstances dictated. He had an incredible capacity for control, as evidenced so far, but she sensed that he also had great potential for mindless violence. Inara just hoped that he'd get a chance to be himself around the crew, and let them get more used to him before either the control or the rage were put to the test.

River had picked up the pace, forcing Jayne to keep up, and had moved on from the hybrid waltz to a jig of some sort. Her head was back, eyes closed and skin flushed as she skipped and turned. She'd managed to drag her brother off the crates somehow so she'd have a partner. He laughed as he spun her out and back, saying something about how clumsy he was and why did she want to bother with him anyways. Mal was grinning next to her, and Inara leaned into his shoulder while Zoe tapped her fingers in time to the music. River relented finally, and let go of her brother only to grab for Kaylee and pull her out into the bay. "Good for one is good for the other," the Reader crowed, and Kaylee giggles as she let herself be spun in circles.

"Looks happy doesn't she?"

Inara yelped and jumped, right along with Mal and Zoe. Below, Jayne fumbled and the guitar twanged as his head jerked up to look for the source of the noise. The other two came down with hands on weapons, but Inara just stood and panted, staring into a set of smoked goggles as their owner let a slow grin spread across his face. He turned away, leaning his elbows on the railing so he could look down at the giggling women.

"Jesus Christ," Mal muttered. "Make a noise!"

Riddick ignored him, head tilted to one side as he laced his fingers in front of him. "Alla you people are so worried about us," he said finally, once they had come back to the rail. Inara, closest, could feel heat radiating off him like an oven; and if it hadn't been for the minute twitches of his fingers and the low rumble in his chest, she would have believed he was as relaxed as he seemed. "'Bout what we'll do next. Trying to figure if this game is gonna spill out onta the crew." He looked up at her then, and she watched his nostrils flare in fascinated horror. Next to her, Mal had gone deathly still, and Zoe was easing a hand back down to her mare's leg.

He let them stew a moment before straightening and propping a hip against the railing, arms crossed over his chest. "Think we don't hear you. Been keep'n out of it best you can." That dark grin again. "Appreciate it. Don't mean we don't know what you're talking about."

He looked back down at River, and Inara started easing back, trying to shove Mal just a little farther away from the big man. He was wound tighter than a drum, and every second he spent looking at the Reader was another second he couldn't touch her and Inara had the sinking feeling that the inevitable explosion was upon them.

"Ain't coping," he said, "Ain't a game. People say more with their bodies than with their mouths. Scent. Sound," He shifted slightly to tilt his head down toward Jayne, who was draped over his weight bench and studying the dancing girl. "Posture. Down there, right now," he nodded at the girl on the main deck, dancing now to music only she could hear. "It's a challenge. Every breath she takes is a dare. Every step she takes puts a little more on the line."

Inara let Mal ease around in front of her. There was a time to be stubborn and a time to let someone better equipped step forward. Riddick's expression didn't change, and the goggles made it incredibly difficult to tell exactly where he was looking. But she had the feeling that for as distracted as he was by River, he knew exactly where everyone else in the cargo bay was. Down to the last inch.

Mal had his hand on his holster, but it was still snapped shut "Get the feeling, she's not the only one giving challenge," he said softly. Inara bit her lip and glanced at Zoe, but the first mate was staring at Riddick, face unreadable.

The man in question shook his head and chuckled, and it rippled through the air like a building avalanche. He'd turned back around to brace his hands on the railing, and though his head didn't move much, Inara could almost guarantee that he was tracking River with his eyes. For a moment she thought he wouldn't say anything else, and Mal was starting to relax in front of her. Then he opened his mouth again. For the first time she heard something in his voice besides anger or amusement. It was rough, almost animal, yet curiously gentle. It was all the more disturbing for the contrast it made with the words being formed. "Said it already. This ain't a game. This is war."

And then before they had even a second to absorb the meaning, he took a step back, shifted his weight and leapt right over the railing. Inara gasped and lurched forward, nearly sending herself over as well as she tried to see what was happening. He landed with a bang, crouched on the balls of his feet, right where River had been moments before. Various yells of surprise came from the others on the main deck, but the girl herself was crouched a few feet away, teeth bared and eyes wild.

"_Huh choo-shung tza-jiao duh tzang-huo_," Mal yelped and pulled Inara back to solid footing. "What in the gorram hell is wrong with you," he shouted down.

But neither was paying any attention. Riddick had lunged forward, and his silence was almost more terrifying than any roaring or yelling he'd done so far. River dodged, ducking low under the reaching arms and coming up on the other side. Simon and Kaylee had scrambled for the safety of the hatch into the common room, and Jayne had a hand on his gun, guitar forgotten at his feet.

Inara was so fixated on the scene below that she almost didn't see her husband start for the stairs, muttering about lunatics and readers and his boat not being a ruttin' jungle gym. Everything in her told the woman that it would be very, very bad if he tried to break this up. She lunged for him, catching hold of his arm and only then noticing that Zoe had grabbed for his other one. There was the sound of a body hitting metal below, but Inara only had time for the body of the man she clung to, and the fact that it would be cooling quickly on the deck plates if she couldn't stop him.

Mal growled at her. "Dammit woman, let go!"

"No Sir," Zoe set her feet and dug in on the other side. "You go down there, get in the middle of that, they'll kill you to get to each other. Look!" And she pulled him and by extension Inara, over to the railing so he could see what was happening.

River had braced a foot against the weight bench and was in the process of flipping herself up and over Riddick's leg as he snapped a kick out where her ribs would have been not moments before. The toe of her boot caught him in the jaw in its way past, and he snarled and spun with the hit, fists coming up together to catch her a solid blow in the back. Except she wasn't there. She'd dropped to her knees, sliding under the strike and away before somehow managing to turn herself around and flip up to her toes. Crouching there, fingers splayed like tripods and legs bunched under her, the girl bared her teeth and screeched wordlessly before launching herself at the man. He stepped to the side, caught hold of one ankle as she flew past him, and yanked hard. She barely missed giving herself a concussion against the edge of the weight bench before forward motion was halted and inertia lost to the force pulling against her. She flew backwards, landing back out in the middle of the deck, and rolled once before fetching up against the crates on the port side.

Inara clutched at the railing and bit her lip. Next to her, Mal had gone still, and she could feel the metal under hands quivering as he shook with rage. Zoe was still hanging on to him, but her attention was on the pair below. Simon and Kaylee were nowhere in sight, and Jayne had gone pounding up the stairs and grabbed Sierra, who must have been woken from her nap by all the noise. He had her pinned, and the girl was screeching for her River as she struggled against the big man's grip. Neither of the fighters noticed.

She still couldn't tell if Riddick was trying to hurt the girl, or catch her. Both were throwing punches and doling out kicks that would have snapped bones and knocked one or the other unconscious, but neither was landing very many hits. And half the time, to her eyes at least, the man seemed to be pulling his blows, or grabbing the girl where a strike would have been possible instead. She wormed, spun, and clawed her way away from him every time, and the Companion shuddered to see the colors his face was turning and the veins popping out all over his body. If they weren't _really _trying to kill either other, what would it be like if they were? She looked up to her husband, but he only had eyes for the fight. A glance back and Zoe shook her head, lips compressed into a thin line and eyes warning. There was truly no stopping this. They could only hope it would end soon.

It did. Either River misjudged the strike Riddick was making at her, or he was just that much quicker than her at the moment. He managed to distract her with a hand reaching for her shoulder, which she deflected with a sweeping block that looked like it had its roots somewhere in Kung Fu. But his other hand shot out and caught the outstretched arm, pulled and spun, and he had her locked up against his chest. She flailed with the other arm, reaching for his goggles, and he caught that hand as well. She froze, panting, flushed, and eyes rolled back to try and see where he was. Inara was suddenly put in mind of a frightened animal, caught in a trap, and River's eyes snapped up to meet hers just as she was opening her mouth to say something to Mal. Frantic head shaking made the woman swallow her words and take a closer look.

There was a low steady rumble coming from Riddick, and for as close as he was holding River, his grip had gentled on her. In fact, if the girl had wanted, she could have pulled away. He'd dropped his head to the base of her neck, and River was leaning back against him. The color in her skin was still rising. Inara, for the first time in her career, was embarrassed to be seeing what she was seeing. If a piece of paper could have fit between the two anywhere, she'd be surprised. Slowly she turned to Mal and laid a hand on his arm. He glared at her, but kept his mouth shut. Thank Buddha for that.

"Fuck girl." Inara spun as the hoarse voice, deep and full of things that weren't meant for human ears, rumbled through the suddenly still air. "You win. Happy now?"

River, if it was possible, pressed herself even closer to the man and tipped her head back to run her nose along his jaw. "Imminently."

Mal twitched next to her. Inara clung to his arm to keep herself in place. Or him. She wasn't sure. Over on the other stairs, Jayne was turning purple and his face looked like murder. Down below, Riddick pulled on the wrist he still held in one hand, crossed over River where he'd locked her in place, and she turned, following the motion as he guided her around behind him. Not stopping, not hesitating a moment, he crouched slightly, gave a gentle yank, and got her up over his back in a modified fireman's carry. The girl sighed, hitched her legs up around his waist, and let him carry her towards the starboard side stairs. All the fight had gone out of her and she was obviously very ready for a different sort of grappling. Inara pushed franticly at Mal and Zoe pulled from the other side, wanting to get him away from that side of the ship before he exploded and a new sort of hell broke loose. He let them, and Inara didn't look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth. This wasn't a thing anyone should be in earshot of, even Companions with years of experience under their belts.

Down below, Simon finally found his voice, and outrage mixed with shock as he sputtered. "What the hell? What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

"Fuck you Doc," Riddick called down as he made it to the top of the stairs. River was tracing fingers over his shoulders, face turned away from the rest of the crew. But Inara could see exactly what his pants were failing to hide, and knew that the next person to interrupt would meet a very bloody end. The man wanted only one thing, had wanted only one thing for days now, and the Reader was finally able to give it to him. No power in the 'Verse, Inara thought, and pushed even harder at her husband to get him away before he got them all killed. River giggled into Riddick's neck and he eyed her for a second before snorting and turning toward their shuttle. A moment later and the door slid shut behind the two. Another moment and an ear piercing shriek rang through the air, metal of the shuttle walls doing nothing temper it.

Inara broke and ran, dragging her husband along with her. Second later, the cargo bay had cleared, leaving only the sounds of echoing footsteps and long delayed passion to disturb it.

**Author's Note:**__Soooooo. What it what you expected? This served a couple purposes for me. To get these two back to the sex without having River just sit down and tell him "Hey, I'm done bleeding!" Not that he wouldn't have been able to smell it anyways. It also gives the crew a taste of what insanity these two are capable of. I envision this more akin to the fight they had on the Necro ship than the one in the bar on Persephone.

As always, they aren't mine. It'd be fun if they were, but considering the living hell I plan to put them through, I don't think THEY'D like it much. Hah!

And thanks everyone for the reading, reviews (hint hint) favs and follows!

Shenandoah76209: Yessssss. I'm enjoying the Riddick-Jayne interactions. So many opportunities and possibilities. I've got some one shots planned after this, think I'll work more in. I plan on letting Riddick's talents and the bits about the bond out a little at a time. Breadcrumbs as it were. As for mental gymnastics on River/Riddick's part…I don't plan to stop. Don't know if it's good or bad. But I've invested so much into that tree and the animal and the stream by this point that I can't really ignore them. And if they had everything worked out between them things would get really boring really fast. Gotta keep the agony coming!

Rachet: Hahah. I couldn't resist another shower fight. Figured Riddick should win this time around. Maybe…

Guineverekay: Glad you like them! And yeah, Serenity is kind of like the embodiment of Murphy's Law, combined with the whole "Nothing is foolproof" concept. I'm liking Inara too, and I just wish I could get Jayne in there a little more. But maybe later. I actually want to do more Mal, he's coming off like an ass, but his little girl went and grew up on him and didn't tell him! I started this chap in his point of view, got a couple hundred words in, and scrapped the whole thing. It just wasn't working. He didn't have the insight I needed to get the point across.

As for the smut, I'll leave that to your imagination for now. Mine isn't quite up to the task at the moment… I assure you though, there's probably something like Fiery Death happening in that shuttle right now.

Translations:

_Gi__à __d__à__o__h__ǎ__o__ch__ù__ -_it's just perfect **/** it's just right

_shiong-muh duh duang-ren__-_ violent lunatic

_Huh choo-shung tza-jiao duh tzang-huo_- animal fucking bastard

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	30. Chapter 30

Ch. 30

_I can feel you all around me_

_Thickening the air I'm breathing_

_Holding on to what I'm feeling_

_Savoring this heart that's healing_

_My hands float up above me_

_And you whisper you love me_

_And I begin to fade_

_Into our secret place_

"All Around Me", Flyleaf

Riddick propped himself up on his elbows and took stock. He could feel his jaw swelling, and knew that it was far too late to do anything about the goose egg that was forming there. Assorted scrapes and bruises decorated his body, a good majority of them with teeth marks around them. There was a spreading pain along his ribs could or could not indicate a cracked rib. He figured from the lack of difficulty breathing, that it probably wasn't a break. The skin over his knuckles was torn where he'd rammed his fist into the deck plates rather than cave in River's face.

And that was just his body. The shuttle itself was a wreck. The couch had been tipped over, the low table in front of it somehow up towards the bridge area of the shuttle, and all the blankets had gotten torn off the bed and dumped in a pile on the floor. They needed to invest in a different dresser if they were going to stay, this one had been so badly abused that it wobbled, joins all loose and a leg broken. They needed something to muffle echoes off the bulkheads too, drapes or something. His ears were still ringing.

When he tallied all that against the fact that he was currently looking down at her face, still flushed and still beautiful; he decided that all things considered, he'd come out ahead. Her legs were still wrapped around his hips, feet hooked over the back of his thighs. He could feel her breathing under him, small breasts pressing against his chest and creating a considerable distraction to the thoughts he was trying to form. Not that he minded. The fingers she was tracings over the network of burn scars on his back and sides were doing a fair job of splitting his attention as well. That wasn't even counting her eyes, huge and luminous as she stared up at him; and those lips, swollen and dark with the blood that filled them.

The room was awash in vanilla and musk, and he could feel her joy that he'd finally figured out where the second scent came from. He'd actually pinned it down a few days ago. Sort of hard not to notice that it only showed up when she was around and lingered far past her departure from whatever airspace she shared with him. He'd been locked in the shuttle with it most of the morning. And more than the music and conversation in the cargo bay, the awareness of it had been what drove him out of the confined area.

He remembered the feel of River's mind in his; agitated, worried, and resisting the comfort he'd been trying to offer. She'd been that way all morning, and half the night too. Neither had slept, not since he'd come back to the shuttle and found her fully dressed and gathering up the blanket and pillow. The look in her eyes had burned, and he'd realized that while he still had the girl in the tree, she was somehow _less. _ She'd managed to block her plan from him, and block the way the results had affected her. Had she been done bleeding, even then? He supposed the smell could linger. But she hadn't let him get close enough to tell. Add to that the fact that apples and rain and warm vanilla had drowned out everything else in the shuttle, and he couldn't have gotten a bead on the old blood if it meant his life. Which probably answered that question right there. He was well served for not having figured it out later, and she'd certainly gotten her revenge; what with keeping herself from him till he pulled his head out and realized she was done. Both of them tossed and turned that night, unable to find sleep. It was a thing he'd _never _had to worry about. Neither able to find calm or peace or anything but frustration.

She'd latched onto the man that morning instead of the jaguar. The animal had been going slowly mad all week, and while it could still provide some small measure of balance to the girl, the weapon had taken to anchoring it to the tree to keep it from leaping down onto the slim figure by the creek. The man had known, had kept up the reminders that it was just a few days. That there would be an end. That if they could just hold out one more minute, hour, day; they'd have her to themselves once again. And he'd been right.

But he'd nearly had to drop the animal back into its hole. It didn't think in terms of time. It knew want, need, desire. It knew the girl was theirs. The fact that she was burying herself in his mind for comfort and stability had only worked for so long. The animal, the instinct, refused to understand that the torture would come to an end. In the darkest corner of his mind, Riddick locked away the worry about what would happen if they ever got separated for more than a few hours. It wasn't something he wanted to inflict on River. She'd had a hard enough time these past few days as it was. No need to borrow trouble, not when they had enough on their plates as it was.

She shifted under him, and her fingers stilled. She couldn't read the thought he'd hidden from her, but she could read the seriousness that had filled him. The girl disentangled herself from the pile of limbs, claws, blades and tail that lay between the tree and the stream bank and reach over to lift the face of the man to hers.

"Didn't like it," she whispered. Her voice was broken, both with emotion and from the screaming, and it rasped over his ears like a knife over stone. "Didn't like being apart."

His dick was stiffening as she moved against him and her voice filled his mind. She shifted again to bring her center more in line with his. Riddick rumbled, hitched his arms closer, and pulled her up against him as he came to his knees. She followed the motion, arms wrapped around his chest and squeezing as hard as she could. Hot tears ran down her cheeks and onto his shoulder as she buried her face into the base of his neck.

Riddick returned the gesture, inhaling apples and rain, warm vanilla and the wet earth of her sadness. But no old blood, and plenty of fresh sex. He wondered briefly what he smelled like; with all the emotions chasing themselves through is mind. He was so used to his own scent that he realized that he was crippled where self inspection came into play. He knew what the emotions were though. No more frustration, no more rage at the situation.

Contentment, that they were finally back were they belonged. Regret, that he'd allowed pride and his own arrogance take the initial challenge so far. She had issued it; he had been the one to confirm it. And then she had replied, and the spiral continued. What had started with respecting her choice and the customs of shipboard life in this part of the universe had turned very, very ugly once the war had started. Add to that the complications of the crew and their incessant worrying and curiosity and it was a wonder the animal hadn't taken over completely.

If they hadn't had the bond, the constant reassurance that they were still tied together, how would things have ended up? A few times it had only been the girl up in the tree and the weapon on the ground, pulling the stream up past its banks and drowning them all in some measure of calm, which had kept things from exploding. But in the end it hadn't been enough. He'd taken refuge in the logic of the man like he had that first time he'd seen her dance on the _Hound_; shoving the animal as far back into his mind as he could as he watched her feet turn bloody in her exaltation. And then there she'd been again. Not quite with the same abandon, but still with a joy that called to him, a siren song that he hadn't been able to resist. The fire had steamed through the waters and burned its way through his brain. That he'd been able to keep the animal under long enough to give Inara something of the answers she'd been looking for was amazing in and of itself. And then the rage. Lust. So great it had spilled over into River and sent them both beyond the edge of reason.

She was sifting through his head now, letting the thoughts slip through her fingers like sand as they solidified and became coherent. He could feel her examining them, comparing them to her own experience of their little war. He'd managed to hide a fair bit of the animal rage from her, needing to be her base of stability through the ordeal, but it had been coming out more and more in the last day. She mourned the fact that he had hidden his struggle from her, mourned the extra prodding she'd given when things were so fragile.

"Hey," he lifted his head from her shoulder and pulled back so she couldn't hide in his. She resisted at first, but let him catch her face in his hands and use his thumbs to wipe the tears from her eyes. Her lips were quivering, so he took them in his and tried to transmit as much strength and understanding to her as he could.

It worked, sort of. Her heart was starting to pick up speed and vanilla rose between them, but the turmoil in her mind was slowing, the stream calming and flattening where it had been racing. The girl let the animal and the man bracket her; one on either side, and her hands fisted in the fur between the animals shoulders while the man tucked her under one arm. When he pulled back, Riddick wiped at her cheeks again and tilted his head. "It's over. Done."

Dropping his hands down to her hips he lifted, shifted her just that little bit closer, and slid home inside her. She shuddered and mewled, biting her lip but never letting her eyes waver from his. They were both wet and slick from their previous exertions, and as she shifted to get herself just a little better aligned, stars exploded behind his eyes. But the time for the rushed and the frantic was over. He had something else in mind this time, and he pushed it her way before she could rock her hips. She stilled and stared at him.

::Next time,:: he murmured, dropping his face down to her neck and biting gently. She gasped and heat rose from her skin. ::Next time, we'll know what to expect.:: The other side of her neck got the same attention. She was poking around in his head, but he could feel her grip on logical thought slipping, just has his was. The man pinned the animal; he wanted this to last, wanted to draw it out. They'd earned it after all. The girl agreed, and knocked the feet out from under the weapon as the bladed creature tried to make her opinion on slow and steady very, very clear.

::And,:: He was working his way down between her breasts, bending her back and reveling in the feel of her around him as she moved. Her hips twitched, bucking minutely against his, and he responded in kind. The rhythm was set now, but he held her by the thighs to keep her from speeding it up too much. ::Next time, the crew will have had time to get used to us.::

Silk boiled, and her joy at the implications of his words ran through him like a fresh breeze. She rocked her hips against his, even slower this time, and he groaned into her chest as he felt warm slickness slide up his length and back down to the base like the slow roll of the ocean. She was bending further backwards, all that white skin over her torso under his hands and lips and begging to be marked. She moaned as he bit and sucked at her ribs, and pressed herself a little harder against him. He thrust with his hips in response, and in his mind she quit fighting the weapon just as he quit trying to keep the animal down.

They met in a rush, slammed together and melted. Next thing he knew she was rolling against him, sliding up and down his shaft as he pressed forward and retreated in time. It was still slow, but the inclination for words had gone, and instead she was rasping out little gasping cries in counterpoint to the building rumble in his chest. She was still laid out before him, and he could feel the gash on his arm burning as blood rushed through his veins. Hands wandered over skin, and somehow she was under him completely and the pace had picked up. She laughed in his head, and he couldn't find it in him to argue, at least not much. He had time to catch her mouth in his again and to grumble something to the effect of how she never could just go along with his plans before she bucked one last time, clenched, and fell to pieces around him. He came seconds later, and he could feel his bones vibrating as they drank in each other's cries.

Gasping, panting, they came down from the heights. The man and the animal had cocooned the girl and the weapon, and together they unwound at the base of the tree. This, he decided without really knowing it; this was home. A strange thought, for a man who'd never had one. But he knew it to be truth, same as he knew that the bond between them had actually strengthened over the past week. So long as she was nearby, so long as she was in his head, it didn't really matter where they were or who was around. She shifted under him as he propped himself back up on his elbows to look down at her, and he saw it in her eyes when she caught the thought. He hadn't been hiding it after all.

She clung to him then, and held him close when he would have pulled out. ::No.:: Her voice was stern, but something in her had steadied, something he hadn't even known was wobbling. ::This is where you belong.:: Her voice promised less than pleasant results if he disobeyed, and for once he didn't feel the need to be contrary. It was truth after all. He was where he belonged. Rumbling as he kissed her on the collarbone, he slipped his arms under her, turned, and pulled her so she was laying over him. She yipped in surprise, but settled, and hummed into his shoulder. Her mind wrapped a little more firmly around his, and together they slipped off, letting the first true sleep in days claim them.

~HHYFN~

The timepiece on the doorpad read 0100 when they woke and gathered their things. They were both sticky and smelly, and there was a much larger shower room on this boat than the one on the abandoned merc ship. Riddick had been mentally dragging River into it every time he got himself cleaned up. Now he could do so in the physical as well. They slipped down the stairs, River moving with the ease of long familiarity and Riddick grateful that the ship was darkened so he didn't need to bother with his goggles, though they dangled from the crook of one finger. He watched her with appreciation as she padded through the bay. Neither was bothering to sneak. Everyone else was asleep, and they both moved quietly enough anyways.

He was enjoying the view, and didn't bother to hide it from her. She, in turn kept glancing over her shoulder at him, and trailed silk and vanilla in her wake. His nostrils flared and he took two huge steps to catch her as she entered the common room, scooped her up under his free arm, and carried her laughing protesting self the last few feet to the door that led to the showers. She swatted at him and he growled at her. In his head the girl was clinging to the tree trunk and giggling as the animal looked disturbingly pleased with itself. The man shook his head and left them to it. He was busy with a knife at the base of the tree, and kept dipping his whetstone into the stream as he sharpened first one blade, then another, leaving a neat row sitting on the ground next to him. The weapon was stretched out next to him, head on his knee and putting the blades out of order as he took his attention off of them.

The shower was both more and less productive than he'd planned. They got clean, sure, and luckily enough this one didn't have a timer like the one on the _Hound_ had. Better water recycling or a bigger tank, or some other thing that he didn't really care about. Either way, he'd been working his fingers over her scalp as she leaned her forehead against his chest and letting the water rinse away the shampoo in her hair when she'd suddenly dropped and taken his dick in her mouth.

He'd gone rigid in shock. The girl had fallen off her tree branch entirely, she was laughing so hard, and the animal had come very, _very_ awake. He'd nearly slipped and lost his footing, and the only coherent thought he could put together was that she had an unhealthy obsession with pulling this particular stunt. On one hand he liked it. A lot. She hummed with pleasure and the vibrations from her lips as her tongue flickered over his head nearly made him grab for her hair and thrust himself down her throat. But he didn't like her on her knees. Not like that.

She growled against him and bit gently and he barked in surprise.

He didn't know how he managed it. He suspected the animal had taken over. All he knew was that he had her up against the wall, legs hooked over his shoulders and water running down his back as he pressed his nose, then his tongue, to her center. She screeched in surprise and bucked her hips against his face. He pinned them down with his hands and proceeded to make a very thorough inspection of the origin of the warm vanilla in her scent. She shuddered and clenched as he ran his lips down the insides of her thighs and nibbled his way back up and then down the other side. She writhed in his grip; and her hands left off scrabbling over his head to cling to the shower head above her as he bit, ever so gently, at the nub in her clit. She'd have bruises where she fought against his grip, but he'd rather keep her still than get his nose broken. Somehow she pulled together enough conscious thought to shove the man in the stream before she melted completely, and the animal rumbled with pleasure against her skin before going back to what he'd been doing.

Just as she was starting to quiver uncontrollably and he knew he'd send her over the edge, Riddick shrugged out from under her legs and let her drop. She whimpered and writhed all the way down, but he was guiding her hips, rising to meet her, and impaled her just as she started to truly think he'd leave her half-finished like that. She lasted one thrust, two, and on the third she screeched his name, clenched up everywhere, and dug her heels into his back as she came. He leaned into it, burying himself as deep as he could and grinding his hips against hers to draw it out. Think she'd get the drop on him did she? They had no limits now, no taboo, and he still had that goal from back on the _Hound_. She didn't need to walk straight anyways.

The girl caught the thought as she came back from the brink, and snarled down into his ear before taking it between her teeth and biting hard. He reared back, shouting in surprise, and she caught him with her legs just as he was about to exit her. There was a fire in her eyes more reminiscent of the weapon than the girl, and she shifted her hips. Just enough to tease him in, then out. When he tried to come back, she clamped hard thighs around his waist and glared. The waif had melted, and in his mind was the bladed girl, river rushing around her feet, hissing in satisfaction

::My turn.:

And then she worked him over. Still clinging to the shower head, operating on main strength of her muscles alone, she rocked her hips ever so slightly. Just enough that he was almost out, then back until she just barely surrounded his head. Riddick groaned and braced his hands on the wall to either side of her so he wouldn't just grab and pull her in. It felt too good to give up, and fuck if he was going to ruin the fun. But she was about to come again, and he felt her grip on her anchor loosening half a second before they both lost it, and he lunged. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hung there as he nailed her to the wall and shuddered his way to completion, surrounded by steam, spiced musk, warm vanilla, apples and rain and the solid sense of _rightness _that was the wall their bond had built around them. He felt her teeth draw blood in his collarbone and didn't care. His were taking a solid chunk out of her shoulder as well, and he knew there'd be squawks on the part of crew later.

::Fuck them,:: River gasped in his mind, in an uncharacteristic bout of foul language. She sounded like him actually. ::This is who we are. They cannot take us from each other, cannot change who we are.::

Riddick chuckled and leaned back to tip her chin up. He could taste their mingled blood on their lips as he kissed her, copperish and perfect. ::Got that right. Now,:: he pulled her back under the stream of water. ::Let's get this soap off. I'm hungry.::

~HHYFN~

They had to bandage themselves up first. Riddick held as still as he could for that process, made easier by the fact that he hadn't bothered to grab a shirt on his way out of the shuttle. But his hands wandered, tracing their way up her ribs, back down, ghosting over her breasts and then onward to her hips. She poked him, repeatedly, but he refused to be annoyed into stopping. He had almost five days of deprivation to make up for. A thought drifted into his mind from hers, and he caught at it before she could wall it completely from him.

"Lions," he asked and quirked an eyebrow at her. Her skin darkened almost halfway down the grayscale as blood rushed to the surface, and burnt sugar rammed its way up his nose. He snorted and nearly sneezed, but couldn't hold back the laughter.

She crossed her arms and glared, waiting for him to finish. When he wouldn't stop, she booted him in the stomach. "_Bi zuie_," she snapped. "Do not mock her!"

He shook his head and wheezed out another laugh as he fought to catch his breath.

She booted him again.

Bandages forgotten, he growled and grabbed for the offending leg, almost yanking her off the table she sat on. She snarled in return and leaned back to cling to her seat. He didn't care. He had her right where he wanted her, centered over his dick again. It was filling again, hardening. She'd left the thong and lacey bra somewhere under the bed, and the only thing between them was the pair of pants he was wearing. She was also wearing that fucking dress again, the one that made it near impossible to tell where fabric ended and skin began. Vanilla and musk rose in the air around them, and he knew that all it would take would be a yank at the tie holding up his pants and he'd be back where he belonged. In the most private part of his mind, buried as far away from her as he could manage, he admitted that there was something to the comparison to lions. But seeing as she hadn't complained so far, and had met and matched him every time, he decided that the idea could apply to her as well.

He shoved that last bit at her as he ground his hips up against her, and she gasped and clung to the man for support as the animal abandoned her entirely, completely focused on what it was doing to her. He could feel her opening to him, even through the cloth, and hummed against her ear as she forgot to cling to the table and leaned forward to bury her face in his neck instead. She was damp, he knew he was seeping fluids, and these pants would smell of vanilla and musk and sex for a very long time, unless she managed to get them washed. He planned to hide them, seeing as she didn't have any underwear any more that he could steal.

Another roll, a mewling whimper against his skin, and he ran a tongue over the shell of her ear. "Don't tempt me girl," he murmured, and pressed himself just a bit closer. "Or I'll keep you in that shuttle and you'll never see your crew again." He thrust again, once, hard, and she rose to meet him. Point made, he tore himself from her arms, set her back on the table, and booked it out of the infirmary before she could chuck the tray of bandages and antiseptics at his head. The thing clanged as it ricocheted off the doorway, and she screeched in frustration in his mind, wordless and fierce. Still laughing, he bolted up the stairs and listened to the thump of her feet as she gave chase.

Life was back to normal.

**Author's Note: ** I almost skipped this chap. It's pretty much smut from beginning to end. But after the week these two have had, I needed to get them back to normal. Hey, he hasn't jumped her in an air vent…yet. I also needed to give some of Riddick's POV on the torture they just went through.

I'm going to TRY and start updating more often. Usually I wait till I've gotten a few reviews and about 100 VIEWS before I post the next chap. But I'm pulling too far ahead in where I'm writing, and the characters as they are 14 or chapters from now (which is my gap btw) are so very different from the characters now that I'm needed to be less confused. As always, thanks so much for the views, reviews, favs and follows!

THEY AIN'T MINE! Go away! Leave me be with the toys from someone else's toy box!

Shenandoah76209: Haha. I tried it a couple ways where River lost, but I wanted Riddick to admit losing something. Which he kind of won anyways, cause hey, now they can screw each other senseless again! As for retaliation…hmmm. Hadn't thought of that. But she'll have to bleed again. I'm sure he'll think of something. On the topic of the being at peace thing, I follow a blog of a writer who gives a lot of good advice. She asked the question of us: Why do we lose interest in our favorite couples after they finally get together. Answer: Conflict. If there's no conflict, everything's peachy, then part of what drew our interest is gone. Me? I just love throwing characters into Hell and watching them crawl out.

Guineverekay: Whoo! Glad you like it! Inara…I like her in the series. In a lot of fics, she annoys me. I wanted her to still be herself (Companion trained, but loving Mal) but having learned some in the last five or so years she's been on the ship. She picks her fights with Mal a bit better, but can influence him too. And she's kind of taken River under her wing. And yeah, I left off the Fiery Death in the shuttle. I think a small bomb went off instead, considering the destruction in there. Maybe they should get army grade furniture? Or like old hospitals, all the metal desks and heavy duty stuff?

Rachet: Thank you! Glad you liked it. I really couldn't see any other way out of the bleeding without one or both pitching a spectacular fit.

Translations:

_Bi zuie: _shut up

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	31. Chapter 31

Ch. 31

_You take the breath right out of me._

_You left a hole where my heart should be._

_You got to fight just to make it through,_

_'Cause I will be the death of you._

"Breath", Breaking Benjamin

Someone had left food in the heater for them. Protein molded into noodles and false bits of what was probably supposed to be beef. It tasted all right, more like real food than some of the other stuff he'd been fed on this ship. River told him it was Zoe's doing. She'd been raised shipside, and had more experience in beating the protein components into some semblance of edibility than any of the others. He filed that bit of information away along with everything else he was learning about this bunch of misfits. It never hurt to have more knowledge, and if it meant he knew who's cooking he could trust and who's to avoid completely, all the better.

He'd managed to avoid getting kicked in the face or gutted by the Reader, and although it had taken a bit of doing, got her stop trying to kill him long enough to notice the food. Her stomach had won out over her temper at that point, speaking very loudly indeed. It had been midmorning when he'd attacked her, and neither had eaten since. In fact, he couldn't remember the last meal he'd had. The crew was learning. Nobody had come to the hatch the entire time, not even to leave food for them.

::Scared,:: River whispered in his mind. Sorrow and wet earth mixed oddly with silk, but there it was. The puzzle that was this girl never did end. She was sitting crossways across his knees at the head of the table. Mal's chair in fact. In his mind she had her head in the lap of the man and her feet up on the hips of the animal as it peered into the stream. He eyed her sideways, and tried to reach around her for his plate. She blocked him.

::Alright,:: he said, figuring it was better at this point to just take the bait. ::What are they scared of? Me coming after you like that again?::

She twitched and nearly dropped her chopsticks as she gurgled out a laugh. He eyed the noodles dangling from the sticks warily. They were all set to land right on his chest. Although on second thought…River caught his eye as the mental image drifted past her and the curl at the side of her mouth promised interesting things. ::Some. Mainly afraid to hear the girl shriek so. Afraid to come around a corner and find the pair half naked in rut.::

The man chuckled, the animal took its attention from the stream to blink at the girl, and Riddick nearly tipped them over backwards as he barked out a laugh. She snorted, clapped her free hand over her mouth, and then tried to shush him. It worked, mainly because he'd gotten distracted by a new smell. He'd caught a trace of it a moment ago, but it was stronger now, as her humor and joy mixed into something new. A flower of some sort. He shoved the new scent her way, a silent question that she mulled over for a moment before grinning. "Lilac," she declared, and leaned over to take another bunch of noodles in her chopsticks.

He snorted and made another grab for his plate. She pushed it just out of reach. He grabbed for hers next. She swatted his hand and grinned. "He has to earn it."

Silver eyes narrowed and he tipped his head to one side, trying to dig through her mind for what exactly he was supposed to do to earn his food. As he suspected, she wanted a continuation of what he'd started in the infirmary. Now who was insatiable?

Just for that, he reached for the hand with the chopsticks and tried to bring them over to his mouth. She still had the pile of noodles twined around them, and he'd at least get a bite in before the fight started. Either he didn't hide the thought well enough or he didn't move fast enough, but she got her arm up over his head before he could had much of a grip on her. He frowned, she giggled, and he eyed the ball of noodles dangling above him. There was sauce running down her arm and dripping onto her shoulder. Lilacs, silk and vanilla mixed with the apples and rain as she caught where he was headed with this, but she didn't fight him as he pulled her closer and began work his lips and tongue up her shoulder. He'd just finished with her upper arm, and she was squirming against him and sending all sorts of alarms along his nervous system, when a clank and a thud in the hallway told him that they were about to be interrupted.

::Kaylee,:: River gasped in his mind. She was more focused on what his tongue was doing to the insides of her elbow, and frankly, so was he. If her crew had a problem with them taking over the galley in the middle of the night, they could go fuck themselves. Something about that got a giggle out of her, but he wasn't able to catch why before the rivulet of thought was gone.

"Oh!" Footsteps on thin metal announced the arrival of the mechanic. "So sorry. I didn't realize anyone was awake."

Riddick sighed to himself, gave River's arm a nip of warning, and looked over at the woman. She was grinning, arms wrapped around her to keep the light colored robe closed around her body, and bare legs ended in equally bare feet. She didn't look bothered at all. In fact, she looked amused. Engine oil, faint traces of antiseptic, strawberries, and something else he couldn't identify drifted over to him as the mechanic reached for the dangling ends of the belt around her waist and pulled them into a loose knot.

In his lap, River was quivering, and lilacs and apples and rain drowned out the other woman's scent. This fucking boat was messing with his nose. Even with just two people to keep track of, the air was so permeated with people's signatures that he had to be nearly standing on them to get a read. River shoved amusement, appreciation, and slight awe his way, and gave him a mental push in Kaylee's direction. He got it after a moment of thought. She was passing on her impressions of the young woman.

"Didn't mean ta interrupt. Can just forget I'm here, if you like." Kaylee had gone over to the food prep section of the galley and was rummaging in storage lockers there. "It don't bother me none."

Riddick blinked at her, and then up at River, who had a fist stuffed in her mouth and was turning colors as she shook with silent laughter. ::Care to explain?::

::She is a lecher,:: the girl managed, before falling out of his lap completely. Food and chopsticks forgotten, Riddick lunged to catch her before she hit the deck, and got her by the arm in time to let her land with considerably less force than she would have otherwise.

Kaylee was around the counter and over to the girl before he knew she'd moved and he suddenly realized that the woman was very naked under that robe as she bent and worried over the still giggling Reader. The view wasn't all that bad, but still…

"River, River honey are you ok? Do I need to go get Simon?"

River waved an impotent hand as Riddick snarled at her in his mind and focused his eyes on her instead." Cl-close the robe Kaylee," the girl managed to gasp, before dissolving back into laughter.

::Not seeing what's so funny,:: Riddick growled.

::Too-too much to explain!:: She was having troubles even in her mind, and he shook his head as he helped her back to her feet. Kaylee had croaked out an apology and turned around to fix the robe. He hoped she got the knot tighter this time. A glance at River didn't help. She was still trying to choke down laughter. Oddly enough, he wasn't getting any embarrassment off of the mechanic. Her scent hadn't really changed since she came into the galley. Did she care at all that he'd gotten an eyeful down the front of her robe?

::No,:: River shook her head at him and knelt to pick up the chopsticks and scrape the food that had spattered all over the floor into a small pile. He held out his hand to take it and she chuckled again as she dumped it into his palm. He grumbled under his breath, but went to toss the mess and find something to clean his hand off with. There went his plans for the rest of the night. River snickered and poked the animal in the shoulder.

It ignored her. Something about Kaylee's scent was sending off warning bells. The man crouched next to the animal and added his mind to the instincts. It wasn't exactly the same, but it was close enough. He'd only caught a scent like it a few times in his life, always around women, always in civilized areas. He'd never stuck around long enough to get a bead on what exactly it was. But something about it put him in mind of Imam's woman, something he'd caught on her years ago, just before he'd left for UV-6.

Kaylee was still prattling, something about not being able to sleep, deciding to come up to the galley and dig up a snack, and really they didn't need to put themselves off on her account. She was just happy they weren't look'n to murder each other anymore and were back to sex'n instead of glaring. He let it roll over him, absorbing the chatter but not really paying attention. At any other time, he might have been mildly shocked at the ease she was taking his and River's behavior of the past few days, but the odd smell she was giving off was just a little too distracting at the moment. It wasn't until lemons and surprise wormed their way up his nose that he realized he's cleaned off his hands and come to stand behind the young woman, all without conscious thought. River was prodding him in the shoulder, both in mind and body and telling him to back off before he did something really scary; like lean over to stick his nose behind the woman's ear. It was what the animal wanted to do, and the man thought it might help get a better fix on whatever it was that was wrong with the girl. Was she sick? It didn't smell like sickness.

There was no jealously in River's voice or mind, but a metric ton of amusement and lilacs drifted over to confuse things even more. He backed up to glare down at her, and caught the look on Kaylee's face. Apprehension, confusion. Appreciation.

::Loves Simon,:: River snorted. ::Still appreciates a fine body.:: She poked him again in the collarbone and turned to pull out a chair and maneuver the mechanic into it. The other woman's eyes had gone out of focus, and Riddick raised an eyebrow at her.

"No touching the Riddick, please and thank you," River said as she got the woman sat down and went over to the pantry. "You have your own muscles to play with." A draft of her disgust wafted over, and in his mind the girl shuddered and kicked at images of her brother, bare chested, as they surfaced in the stream. He agreed completely.

In her chair, Kaylee stuttered out a laugh. "Oh River, you got no worries there." She raked her eyes over Riddick and he had a sudden sympathy for meat in a butcher shop. "You got yourself a fine man, but he ain't for me. Just enjoy'n the view is all."

Weird smells aside, he didn't think he'd ever understand this woman. River's amusement rippled through his head, and the girl sat to lean her head against the shoulder of the animal as she laughed. In the physical, she reemerged from the pantry with a clear plastic bag in one hand and a can of something in the other. Setting them on the table in front of Kaylee, she wandered back to the cupboards on the other side of the room, trailing cool fingers up Riddick's arm, over his shoulder, and down the other. He turned to catch at her hand, but she was gone, intent on something else now that she'd made her claim. Shaking his head, he dropped back down into Mal's chair and reached for his plate of noodles, still sitting on the table. At least now he wouldn't have to fight her for food.

Kaylee was staring at the bag in front of her, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "River…" she finally managed. "How?"

The Reader came back, can opener and a spoon in either hand. "She is _jen duh sh tyen tsai_ after all," the girl replied, grinning from ear to ear. Riddick snorted and waited until she'd come back around the table to pull her down onto his knee.

Kaylee was oblivious, tearing at the bag to get to whatever was inside. "Oh," she moaned as she pulled whatever it was out and laid it on her tongue. "River, you are the shiniest of shiny. Where did you get this?"

River shrugged, and he could feel her happiness in his mind. "On Hibal. Knew the cravings would start soon." She poked at her abandoned plate and grinned down at him. "The Kaylee loves strawberries. Expensive, but last longer dried. Although why she wants cold creamed corn is a mystery"

The woman in question twitched, set down her bag of strawberries, and frowned at River. "You ain't gonna tell the Captain, are ya? Really," she hunched her shoulders and stared at the food in front of her. "He won't take it well t'all."

Tired of not being able to figure out what was going on, and frustrated with River for her lack of help on the matter, Riddick set down his fork and glared at the pair. "What the fuck are you two talking about?"

Kaylee stared. River dissolved back into quiet giggles. He growled at them both and gave River a mental nudge into the stream. That shut her up. She glared down at him for a moment before drawing herself up into her prim and proper rich girl attitude. "Kaylee," she announced with a grand sweep of her arm. "Is pregnant."

He blinked. The animal and the man put the pieces together. Kaylee was staring at him across the table, eyes huge and worried. River just crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Hmn," he said finally. "Interesting."

River was, of course, pulling a lot more than that from his mind. It was a wrinkle. A kink in the works. He could see why the mechanic didn't want Mal to find out. He had the feeling that if the man knew, he'd dump her in the safest place he could find, as fast as he could. She was the body on board least able to defend herself; and keeping her around with their current troubles was practically begging for Murphy's Law to kick them all in the balls. Fuck, he was already looking for ways to get her gone and away from the shitstorm they were about to land in once they found this Paul person. Women and kids, his two greatest weaknesses rolled into one package.

Fucking great.

The girl ran a hand over the ears of the animal as it let the man take the fore and start planning. It wasn't much of an idea at this point. He'd have to wait and see how things turned out on this next planet, but she was giving off approval and assurance as he let her turn the thought over in his mind. It would mean prep work though, and that overhaul she'd been muttering about to the Captain would need to happen as soon as possible. She snorted and promised she could manage that part. It was unavoidable anyways.

"Gonna have to let him know soon," he rumbled finally, and Kaylee's face fell. She knew, obviously. Not that it could be hidden forever. "Take it Simon knows?"

She nodded and picked at the strawberries. "He don't want to leave me behind. But _Serenity _needs us both. Ship's 'bout to drop out the sky anyways, way Capt'n's been runnin 'er lately. And there's always bullet holes to be patched up." She shrugged, and tears were pooling in her eyes. "But Cap'n, he'll want me safe. Try an' pack me back to my folks."

River snorted and leaned over to pat the woman on the shoulder. "Not safe there either. Don't worry Kaylee, will be all right. The girl and the man have an idea. How long to get _Serenity_ whole?"

Something like hope lit in the mechanic's eyes, and Riddick found himself almost looking forward to figuring out a solution to the issue. The animal sighed and laid its head on its paws while the man shook his head in resignation. Grafting himself in, letting these people sink hooks under his skin, just like River had done. Would they all die for taking him in? He fought down the sudden urge to drag River back to the shuttle and take off, leave them all and get the fuck away. Either so their troubles didn't find him, or so he and River could take care of their own mess without needing to worry about them he wasn't sure.

The stream rose to his waist, and River anchored him in it with the weapon while the girl climbed up in the tree and clung to the animal. ::Could leave,:: she said. ::Could, but they are hunted anyways. And we will all need each other before the end.::

He shot her a look for that, but she didn't elaborate further. Her scent was all steel and cool water, and her eyes stern when she met his gaze. Grumbling, he rubbed a hand over her hip and went back to his food. She waited a moment to make sure he wasn't going to argue anymore, and turned her attention back to her own plate.

Kaylee, oblivious, continued to stare at the bag of strawberries. "Not so hungry anymore," she muttered as she folded the top over and propped it up against the unopened can of corn. Standing, she came over to hug River, and this close Riddick could smell the salt of tears mixing with whatever it was that signified her pregnancy. He still didn't have a name for it. A pat on the shoulder made him look up in surprise, and watery eyes were smiling down at him. "You take care of her. And just be careful. Make her scream too loud, menfolk are liable to come up an' shoot ya for ruin'n their sleep."

That said, she turned, kissed River on the head, and slipped back out of the galley. Still slightly stunned by the sudden turn of events, Riddick eyed the girl in his lap. Amusement, sadness and calculation rolled through her brain, and he watched it unfold at a pace his eyes would never be able to track. A mental prod got him nothing in return, and he grumbled as he wrapped an arm around her hips and pulled her a little closer. "This ship's all sorts of fucked up girl."

She sighed and leaned back against him. "She knows."

~HHYFN~

Mal found them the next morning when he came up to the bridge to check the ETA for their arrival on Sihnon. Riddick had his feet propped up on the co-pilots console, and had been listening to the crew make their way out of their bunks and into the galley for the past fifteen minutes or so. Of course it just had to be the Captain who was the first to notice the closed door at one end of the hall. The Furyan had a few seconds warning to yank down his goggles and bracket River in his arms before the hatch slid open and the other man stepped inside.

And yelped. For a former soldier who'd been through as much as he had, Riddick thought that Mal made an awful lot of noise when he saw something he didn't like. Such as his adoptive daughter straddling a big man, skirt hitched around her hips. To be honest, Riddick hadn't let her up the night before after they'd come up to the bridge and engaged in another round of seeing who could do a better job of keeping the noise muffled. He had a new set of bruises on his chest from her teeth, and his jaw actually _hurt_ from grinding his teeth as he came.

Biology had done what he'd refused in the first place, and he wasn't inside her anymore, but his pants were still somewhere down around his thighs and his dick was very, very interested in having him pick her up and give her a very forceful wake up call. She was stirring against him as his thoughts and body transmitted the fact that he was no longer asleep, and he fought the urge to throw something at the Captain so he could go back to paying attention to the girl in his lap.

"What the hell you think you're doing," Mal manage to get out. His voice shifted an octave and half up the scale between the first words and the last, and Riddick winced as the sound grated over his ears. In his head, River came awake and curled up, hiding against the animal as her father's anger and alarm washed over her. Riddick growled and held her a little tighter.

Mal didn't seem to notice. "_Cao_," he was muttering. "You two got a whole shuttle to do that in! Even has a bridge of its own!"

Riddick growled again and managed to keep from turning the chair around so he could glare at the man. River yanked her head up and glared at her Captain. "Hypocrite," she hissed. "She knows where you and Inara hide yourselves. Second shuttle _reeks_ of sex. Cargo hold." She shifted forward to point a finger at the man and Riddick bit back a groan as she rubbed up against his length. Vanilla mixed with musk, but she was ignoring it. "Chairs in the galley alcove are not safe either!"

Mal was backing up, and the outrage was being overwhelmed by embarrassment. Riddick yanked at River and tried to get her back down into his lap so she wouldn't crawl right over him to get to her Captain. Grumbling and yelling "Don't come out till you're cleaned up," Mal bolted back out the hatch and slammed it shut behind him. Through the metal Riddick could hear Zoe asking what was wrong, and Sierra wondering where her River was.

The girl in question collapsed against his shoulder with a groan of frustration. He agreed completely. He should have locked the bridge down when they came in, but hadn't exactly been planning on falling asleep up here. Turning his head, he took a mouthful of breast between his teeth and bit gently. River squealed in surprise and he grunted as she swatted at his head. Pleased that he'd at least been able to get that part of his agenda for the morning accomplished, he pulled her down so he could look her in the eyes and grinned at the fire that met him. "So," he said. "How we gonna manage this?"

She snorted and nipped at his collarbone as she shifted her hips against his. He let his thumbs trail up her ribs so he could cup her breasts and laughed as she pushed images of hidey holes, all stuffed with rags, tucked all over the ship. There were three in the bridge itself, and he caught a mental flash of Zoe and the man who must have been her husband, seated in the pilot's chair in much the same way he was with River. Sadness overlaid the image, and he shook it from his head. The girl was right. Some things should stay private.

The cubby nearest to them was over by the door, so he dropped his feet off the console, gave River a shove backwards off his legs, and reached for his pants. The girl caught her balance, gave him another glare, and headed for the mini-locker. He followed, savoring the vanilla and apples and rain. There was nothing left of the bitter herbs that signified her hurt, or the slight ozone of despair that had crept into the mix the last couple days, and for that he could go with being frustrated for a little while longer. Man and animal knew that she'd be under, over, and around them eventually anyways.

"How's the crew," he muttered in her ear as he took the rag from her and used it to wipe her down. She leaned back against him and let him work as slowly as he liked, and he chuckled at the thought that drifted from her mind to his. She was right of course; keep this up and they might as well forget the rag. He took care of himself a little more briskly, and shook his head as she giggled and straightened her dress. This was still going to be torture. The one pair of underwear she still owned was currently all the way at the other end of the ship and under a bed, and it did shit to cover her anyways.

She tilted her head at him when he shoved the thought of shorts in her direction, and shrugged. ::Probably should,:: she agreed. ::Don't want Captain to have a heart attack.:: She paused and tilted her head to the side. ::Crew…speculates. It will not be pretty.::

He snorted and slid the hatch open. "Go get changed then. I'll see if I can't scare some sense into them."

The look she gave him made it clear she doubted the likelihood of that, but she didn't argue the point. They padded down the hall, and he frowned down at her as his ears picked up the drift of conversation in the galley. She gave him another look and mental warning not to kill anyone just yet, and slipped down the stairs before any of the crew noticed they were there. He tucking himself into the shadows, he slid his goggles down over his eyes and settled in to listen.

The Doc was griping, muttering about the attack the day before and how he still didn't trust the big stranger. He was more than half convinced that one of them, probably his sister, was going to end up getting seriously hurt or even killed as a result of this odd relationship. How or why Mal was letting it continue was beyond him, and frankly, he declared it to be on the Captain's head when the inevitable occurred.

Mal himself wasn't happy, and everything in his voice and body language spoke to a preference of just tossing Riddick out an airlock rather than deal the powder keg that appeared to be his temper. The man in question bit back a growl at that. They could try. They'd find themselves in a whole world of hurt if they thought they could accomplish it. In the tree, the girl snorted and reminded him that they had a shuttle. The thought settled him enough to get his attention fixed back on the crew in the galley.

"Different cultures have different customs." That was Inara, and her voice sounded strained. "We don't really know what it's like in his home systems. Maybe…" she trailed off and he could imagine her shrug. "Maybe that's just the way things are?"

A chorus of disagreement met that statement, and Riddick shook his head. How would he know? He'd never had a home, or customs. There was the way he did things, and the way everyone else did things. And very rarely did the two ever match up. If it hadn't been for the bond between him and the girl, he doubted very much that anything in the past couple weeks would have gone as it did. But she was another who lived life mostly by her own rules; and he could only feel very, very satisfied that her way of seeing things matched so well with his.

::Of course they do,:: she muttered. ::We are each other's after all.::

"Ever see some of those wild animals?" Zoe's voice was quiet, and he could see her around the corner as she folded her hands in front of her. Sierra was next to her, totally engrossed in playing with bits of what might have been fake eggs at one point. "See how they circle around each other before mating?"

Groans of disgust met that little nugget of information, and Riddick's animal pricked its ears. Interesting indeed.

"You can't be suggesting…" Simon choked and trailed off.

"That's an incredibly disturbing thought," Inara's voice was worried. "Zoe, are you sure?"

The first mate shrugged and looked over at her Captain, who was turning colors. "It's just a guess. Cap'n, you was raised planetside, what do you think?"

Riddick figured he might as well put an end to this before they got themselves so worked up they really did try and stick him out an airlock. Stepping out of the shadows, he paused in the door to be sure they'd seen him before coming down the steps into the galley. Various expressions of apprehension, fear, and worry flashed over most of the faces there. Kaylee just grinned at him and sipped her coffee, bag of strawberries at her elbow. He quirked an eyebrow at her, but the expression got lost with the goggles, and he sighed to himself. Fucking lights.

"Zoe's right," he rumbled as he pulled out a chair and reached for an empty mug. "It's an animal thing." And he grinned, letting them see all his teeth. He wasn't disappointed.

Simon was up, hands braced on the table and glare firmly in place as he scowled down at the ex-convict. "My sister is _not_ an animal!"

Riddick braced himself, pushed up his goggles, and stared at the Doctor. The lights burned, but it was worth it to see the blood drain from the man's face, and the faces of those around him. "No she's not." he agreed, and poured out two cups of coffee. "But I am. Not that it's any of your business."

Down at the end of the table Mal set his coffee cup down on the table with a thud. "You made it our business, Riddick. "Specially with the way you attacked her yesterday."

From her perch in the tree, River giggled. :: Captain Daddy has a point.::

::You were being a fucking tease,:: he snarled back and pulled his goggles back down. ::Have my breaking point. You found it.:: He turned to glare at her as she slipped through the door behind him and the mutters of the crew stopped altogether as they held their collective breath.

The girl just shook her head, perched on his knee, and reached for the mug of coffee he'd left for her. Tension hummed through the air, and he could hear holsters being unsnapped under the table. He ignored them in favor of tracing a finger up River's back and reaching around her for a platter of so-called eggs. She'd put on pants and a tunic, and he was disappointed, but couldn't blame her. The lack of bra strap in his way helped appease the animal.

::Could have waited,:: she muttered as she glared at her Captain, who was staring in open mouthed shock. ::Was planning to come up to the shuttle soon.::

"Like hell," Riddick barked, irritated enough at the lie that he forgot to keep it in his head.

The crew jerked in place, and Mal's face darkened. "Hey now. No call for any of that. It's a plain fact. Don't need anybody try'n to kill anybody else on this boat, _dong ma_?"

River broke down in giggles, and Riddick rumbled out a laugh as lilacs and apples and rain surrounded him. The crew stared, and only Kaylee looked anything but frightened or angry. There was a grin tugging at her lips, and her eyes were dancing. Figured, he thought. After last night she was the only one not surprised to see them acting normal, instead of how they had been for the past few days. Simon looked ready for murder, and Inara's hesitation was tempered with what he guessed to be assessment. It reminded him of what she'd done for a living, and he had a brief moment to wonder if she was where River had learned so many of her tricks. The two did seem close after all.

::Told you. Education forced. But some was learned willingly as well.:: She passed a hand over the shoulders of the animal and buried her fingers in its fur. Out loud, she continued. "The girl did wander under the tree after all. Got what she deserved."

He snorted and took a sip of his coffee to hide the look on his face. Trust her to speak in riddles at the most bizarre of times. Kaylee was the first one to get it, and she sat bolt upright in shock. "Jaguar! You meant him," she said, grin spreading from one ear to the other. The rest of her family just looked blank as they tried to process the information.

::Can't keep your mouth shut, can you,:: Riddick muttered as he reached for his eggs again.

River rapped him on the wrist with a set of chopsticks and shoved the plate away. She was giggling in his head and apples and rain were nearly overpowered by silk and lilacs. ::Course she can.::

" An' you _are_ talk'n ta each other in your heads," Kaylee crowed.

Riddick paused mid-snarl to stare at the mechanic, food and River's obsession with keeping it from him forgotten. The rest of the crew did the same, and the woman shrugged and grinned apologetically. Mouths worked, throats attempted to force words out, and the expressions ranged from stunned to calculating as the crew looked from the pair at the end of the table and back to the mechanic.

River sighed and set down her coffee. "Caught," she muttered, as she leaned and back draped an arm around his neck.

"Weren't really hiding it," he rumbled back.

"No," Mal braced both hands on the table and leaned over to glare at them. "But neither did you make a point to mention it."

"Why should we?" Riddick leaned forward and met his eyes through the goggles. He was aware of the rest of the people at the table holding their breaths. Even Sierra had stopped playing with her food to stare. "Ain't your business. None of you. What goes on between River and I is between us." He looked over at Inara. "Same as what's between you and yours is none of mine." He was lying, a little bit. He wanted to know what they were up to, and wasn't about to tell them about his hearing or the scents he could use to give him the edge he needed. They still didn't trust him, he couldn't blame them. Not after the last week. But neither was he going to crack open his thoughts to anyone but River at this point, and she was the only one who needed to know that. Clues by scent and sound would be good enough for him. Besides, his girl couldn't help but get readings off these people anyways. If there was something truly bad about to happen, he'd get warning. Even if it meant she went off her rocker, he'd have warning.

"'Cept one bitty thing," Zoe said quietly. "Seven other people on this boat, all living in each other's pockets. Good to know who has your back and who's gonna go monkeyshit and try and kill you." Her eyes didn't just land on him, but drifted over the assembled.

Jayne snorted, River tittered, and Riddick rumbled out a growl. The woman kept on. "You decide to work jobs; we need to know you can do something 'sides lose your temper. Iff'n you can talk to River, if whatever's between you two can give us an advantage is any situation, might mean the difference between coming home in one piece or com'n home in bits."

That brought him up short, and he could feel River turning it over in her own head, just as he was in his. The woman was right, fuck her. Personal issues aside, if he was going to make a place for himself here, he needed to stop thinking like a lone survivor and dig deep into his memory for how it felt to work as part of a team. It meant sharing. It meant trusting; a thing he hadn't really done in _years_. It meant giving someone information they could later use to knife him in the back and believing that they would use it against enemies instead.

Hands buried themselves in fur and held the animal back as the man leaned up against the tree and stared into the cave. Could he do it? On a little over a week's worth of knowledge of these people, could he take that risk? He'd promised to try for River, so she wouldn't have to leave her family. He wanted her whole, not mourning corpses as they cooled around their feet or worrying that they'd come looking for the two of them. She'd promised to do it, threatened them several times with it, but that didn't mean she'd be happy about it.

He scanned the faces in front of him and took a deep breath to see what he could find out. His nose told him the same thing his eyes did. Worry. Anger. An odd sort of understanding on Jayne's part. That figured, considering what he knew of the man. Zoe still had her hands clasped in front of her and was meeting his eyes through the goggles. He glanced over at Kaylee. She looked hopeful. River was right. There wasn't a mean bone in the woman's body. It made what he was about to do all the more cruel, but if it was time for all cards on the table, it needed to be done. River's fingers tightened on his shoulder, and in his head the girl was making frantic gestures to the negative. But the weapon had stepped up next to the man and laced her fingers with his, lending support and confidence

"It's a good point Zoe," he said as he leaned forward to match her pose. "Hadn't thought of it that way." He tilted his head to one side to take a last glance at the woman he was about to knife in the back as he continued. "But there's another problem needs to be dealt with. How we gonna come back from this in one piece if we got a pregnant mechanic they can use against us?"

**Author's Note:** Wow. Dick move Riddick. Don't think Kaylee's gonna be your number one fan for a while. And after she gave you a look down her robe and everything…

Ahem. So. Anyone want to tell me the guy who got a look down an open bathrobe and make some sort of assessment? He'd just a man after all, fueled almost entirely by testosterone. I imagine that before CoR, he probably made just as good a use of brothels as Jayne does. Man whore :P

Also, I'm figuring he hasn't had much one on one time around Kaylee to get a bead on her scent. Otherwise I'm sure he would have noticed it by now. But he's been avoiding her, and obsessed with River, and yeah. BTW, anyone ever made that Amish Friendship Bread? I'm kind of imagining it smells like that. Rich, sugary, fermenting. Don't ask me where my mind comes up with this stuff.

Shenandoah76209: Nice thing about sci-fi. I get to juggle medicine around. There are effects with current Depo shots, like irregular periods, spotting, etc. I can't imagine those will ever get entirely ironed out. But I think River's body chemistry has been screwed with enough by all the cutting on her brain and who knows what else that there might be some adjustment needed. An no, Riddick doesn't realize. Not much time around women remember? He doesn't even know what PREGNANCY smells like. Glad you like his take on all that. After all, the week wasn't candy and roses by either one of their standards, but I want it to be more than just about the sexual frustration.

Guineverekay: Lol. Here, have a fan. Don't think I plan on doing smut chapter like that any time soon, but it was that or they'd be climbing each other…nevermind. They'll still climb each other pretty much any chance they get.

Rachet: Haha. I couldn't resist. Love the lion comparison…

Translations:

_jen duh sh tyen tsai_ Really is a genius

_dong ma_: understand

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Green grass/warm fire-curiosity

Lilac: mischief

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	32. Chapter 32

Ch. 32

_You ask where will we stand in the winds that will howl,_

_As all we see will slip into the cloud_

_So come down from your mountain and stand where we've been,_

_You know our breath is weak and our body thin_

"Babel", Mumford and Sons

Hurt welled up in Kaylee's eyes. Simon went stiff as a board. Mal jerked in place. The rest of the crew reacted according to their natures, but he was focused on Zoe. The only other woman on board, that he knew of, who'd gone through what the mechanic was about to go through. And she at least, could take care of herself. He wondered though, how they'd dealt with the issue in the end. Because there was only a certain amount of time a pregnant woman could manage to look threatening before things just got ridiculous. Kaylee didn't even have that advantage.

Mal was the first one to speak. "Kaylee," he said slowly as he got up to go stand by his mechanic. "This true?"

The woman nodded while Simon wrapped an arm around her shoulders and glared over at Riddick.

"An' you Doc, I take it you knew?"

The Doctor snorted. "What do you take me for? Of course I knew." He pulled Kaylee close and kissed her on the forehead. "Not getting rid of either of us Mal." His voice had gone hard, jaw set, and he had the face of the trauma surgeon on again. He took a breath and continued. "This is our home."

Joy lit in River, and it took Riddick enough by surprise that he missed what Mal said next. While the Captain pulled Kaylee out of her seat to give her a long hug, the murderer glanced up at the girl on his knee. She was smiling, just a bit, but it was at her brother and not at her sister-in-law. Curious, he gave her a mental poke. She looked down at him and the smile got bigger. ::_Ge ge_ has never said that out loud. Always held hospital as home.:: She leaned back into his shoulder. ::Beware. This ship gets under your skin.::

Riddick snorted quietly to himself and wrapped his arm a little tighter around her waist. Damn but if she wasn't right. This place was starting to get to him too. He didn't know if it was the insanity of the crew or what, but he was actually starting to think in terms of defending instead of just running. How fucked up was that?

"How did you know?"

The hugs and congratulations had died down a bit, and he'd taken the opportunity to shovel a bit of food into his mouth before one of two things happened. Either River tried to keep him from eating again, or someone else forced him to talk. He scowled at Inara as best he could through the goggles, finished chewing, and washed everything down with a gulp of coffee while he reviewed his options.

::Truth is probably best.::

::No shit,:: he grumbled back, and pinched her thigh lightly. She stiffened and glared down at him. He ignored her. "Smelled it on her," he said finally. "Give it enough time, I'll be able to track both their heartbeats too." Might as well get it all out at once.

River laughed in his head and nearly tipped out of his lap as the giggles crossed over to the physical. If he'd hit them all over the head with a club, they couldn't have looked more stunned. Glances were exchanged, and Sierra looked up from where she was patting Kaylee on the stomach to stare curiously at them all. Mal's mouth opened and shut a couple of times, Inara was peering at him like he was some sort of escaped experiment, and Simon looked like he was about to _make_ him an experiment. Riddick growled and took another bite of eggs. ::Happy now,:: he grumbled at River. He wanted to ask Zoe the same thing, but he got the feeling she wouldn't have an answer for him. Only more questions.

"Is," Kaylee shook her head and tried again. "Is that what you were doing last night?"

Simon whipped around to stare at her. "What!?"

The young woman shrunk into herself and picked at the bag of dried strawberries. "I was hungry. Got up to find me a snack." She shrugged. "Riddick an' River here, they were up. Found that food you left for them," she glanced over at Zoe, who pursed her lips and clasped her hands under her chin. "Act'n mighty strange you were." This was directed at Riddick, and he lifted a shoulder in acknowledgement and kept eating. "Loom'n like. Right behind me too."

And now all eyes were on him again. These people were in league, he would swear to it. Was it so much to ask to eat? Without having to look like a schoolchild trying to gulp everything down in time to answer the next question? He prodded River and shoved his answer her way.

She snorted, poked him in the head, but complied. "It's an animal thing," she said, and the words sounded even better coming from her. "Furyans have heightened senses. Tracks us by smell, reads emotion. Hears heart rate and breath." She shrugged in the face of her family's disbelief. "Never knew what a pregnant woman smelled like though. Never stuck around civilization long enough to find out." The fingers of the hand at the back of his neck were tracing patterns on the skin there, and he could feel her choosing the words carefully, plucking some from his mind and some from hers to make the whole. "Almost thought Kaylee was sick last night." A quick biting pinch to his ear and he growled t her. "Curiosity often makes him act very strangely. Sometimes gets knocked in the head for his troubles."

::You were screaming bloody murder,:: he muttered, remembering the first time she'd woken in front of him. ::And you reeked of sour fruit and everything else burning out of your system.::

::You were trying to scare the girl,:: she retorted.

::Too bad it didn't work.::

She pinched him again, but didn't reply. The entire exchange occurred in less time than it took to draw breath, and the crew didn't seem to notice the pause. They were still eyeing him, as if they were waiting for him to leap up and kill them all. Or sniff at them. River choked at the mental image that produced and he shook his head. Fucking ridiculous, that's what this was.

River agreed. Her satisfaction and calm of the night and majority of the previous day were fading fast under the onslaught of emotions coming from her family. Curiosity was at the forefront, as Mal and Zoe and even Jayne looked for ways to test Riddick's limits and see what use they could get out of him during a job. She shunted that thought off behind a wall. They didn't really see him as a thing, as a tool, but that's how he'd take it.

It was how she took it sometimes, knowing that the Captain would rather bring her out on this job or that on the off chance that her limited precog abilities would save them a bullet hole or two. But did they listen when she told them that leaving the body of Riddick's adopted _mei_ in the hands of Blue Sun was about the stupidest choice in the 'Verse? No. They still weren't convinced of the need to find her, and it was gnawing on her brain now that she was no longer consumed with the need to keep her hands off her match.

They were still asking questions, and Riddick had noticed the girl slip from the tree and join the weapon near the well on her side of the bond. The animal was watching them carefully through the watery barrier between them, but the man had focused on the crew instead; answering as best he could without losing his temper or tipping them off to the fact that River was no longer present. He was waiting. Waiting for her figure out whatever was bothering her, waiting for her to share it with him, waiting for her to come over all charcoal and witch-hazel and need to get yanked back to sanity. Silly man, she was completely sane. She just wasn't showing it.

She could feel an old fashioned clock ticking somewhere in the river, and the ETA till atmo blinked behind her eyes. The distractions of the past few days, all the lust and rage and war, they were gone. Over. Done. She was back where she belonged, the link between their minds mirrored by their bodies. She didn't really want to bother with her own chair, but eventually Riddick would need both hands to eat and would get tired of her elbowing him in the face or poking him with chopsticks. Shaking her head, she pulled her mind from the stream that ran from the well over to Riddick's side of things and rooted herself on dry ground.

Time. Time was what they didn't have. Every moment they delayed was another moment closer to the scientists discovering the anomalies in Kyra's mutated genetic code. Every moment spent arguing with the Captain and her family was another moment closer to the day when Blue Sun presented its perfect soldier to the Alliance. But what else did she have to work with? She'd gone floating in the river this morning, while Riddick slept beneath her and the rest of the crew muttered in their dreams. She'd found only glimmers. Flashes of knowledge off the backs of fish as they flickered in and out of the shadowed deeps that were the Alliance bolt holes. They were close, she could feel their anticipation. They knew _something_ was different about the body. But they were so focused on their work, on their progress, that none of them spared a thought for where they were.

Stupid scientists.

The jaguar was creeping closer to the wall as the man deflected more and more curiosity. How faint did something have to be before he couldn't hear it? Could he hear someone from one end of the ship to the other? Could he tell everything a person was feeling by smell? Was that how he'd known that River was done bleeding?

The animal came to a dead halt at that last, and the man had scooped up two blades from the ground near the stream and looked ready to kill Jayne. The bladed girl shook her head. Fool. He was going to get himself killed. She pushed promises of payback and contrition towards Riddick, apologies for leaving him to deal with the crew and immense gratitude that he was willing to do so while she dipped her net time and again looking for information. She was coming up empty. The fry were slipping through the holes, and none of the fish big enough to warrant keeping were in evidence. Tricksy Blue Sun. There would be no more repeats of Mathias, not after the Operative had made his point.

Paul. She needed Paul. She needed the access he may have, the insights. His teachings even. He had guided her, helped her as she shook and mumbled and screamed her way back to the closest thing she knew to sanity. Taught her to refine Inara's meditation into something that could guide the river instead of letting it overwhelm her. He'd taught her far, far more than that while she pieced herself together into a mostly working unit instead of a marionette of loose component parts. Only Riddick had given her more, and she tucked her fear of what her match would do to her friend deep inside. He wouldn't like him, and for a multitude of reasons. Point in fact, he'd probably hate him worse than the Captain.

The jaguar had nosed right up to the barrier, and was clearly contemplating crossing it; a thing only the man had done, and that very rarely. Time. Again it came down to time. She was out of it. The ETA was flashing now, and she could hear the ship grinding in pain. Whether they would or no, it was time for Kaylee to shine and for the Captain to listen. It was also time for her to dry her feet and cross back over to the tree so she could keep Riddick from killing her entire crew. They seemed to have forgotten that they'd agreed not to press for answers. Had they forgotten the display the day before as well?

Shaking her head, the weapon girl paced over to the barrier, reached through for the animal to take her hand ever so gently in its teeth, and allowed herself to be pulled free.

Riddick's nose was full of charcoal and fire, and it had taken everything he had to keep the animal from following the girl into her mind and wrecking who knew what sorts of havoc as it tried to find out what had her in knots. He got glimpses and glimmers as she sifted through the river, but he'd had to keep most of his attention on the crew and their increasingly annoying questions. Had they forgotten that he'd threatened to kill them if they pried too far into his life? Did they think that just because he wasn't at war with River anymore, they were safe? Fucking insanity is what it was, this mindset of theirs.

"Listen," River snapped suddenly, cutting across Jayne as he rambled through yet another speculation as to the usefulness of Riddick's ears on a job that had gone south. The irony was lost on the gun hand, but by the twitching looks on most of the crew's faces, not on the rest. Steel wrapped around the charcoal, and the fire vanished as she brought her mind back to the tree and crouched by the feet of the man to run her hands over the animal's head.

She was leaning forward, hands braced on the table and glaring at her Captain. "Do you hear that Captain Daddy?" She tilted her head to the side and silenced reigned in the galley. Riddick caught it first, a far off grinding. A wheeze. A bearing was rattling somewhere. Kaylee twitched in her chair and her face fell as comprehension dawned. And hope, as she looked at the Reader and apparently remembered their conversation of the night before. Zoe and Mal were next, and they frowned at each other, a look that spoke volumes.

"She is hurting," River hissed, her gaze still fixed on Mal. "She may land on Sihnon, may even make it back out of atmo. But she has been run too hard and too long to make it down to the next planet. Need to fix her hurts. Need to give her an overhaul. Have not been taking care of her. Push too hard."

"We were look'n for you," Mal snapped, knocking his chair back as he stood to glare at the girl. "Hunt'n all over the damned 'Verse try'n ta find you! Ya know how hard it is to find work what pays when a body's trying to hunt somethin' down?"

River was up, slamming a fist on the table as the charcoal faded completely into the steel. Red anger tore through Riddick's mind from her's, and the man raised his blade to cut through the wave and leave himself and the animal free of it. They did not need two pissed off psychotics tearing through the crew at this point. The only threat here was Mal, and so far he was keeping his gun in its holster. In front of him River was glaring, the weapon in her mind was hissing, and he could feel her thoughts racing as she fought to piece together a coherent sentence. She only partially succeeded. "She is not a lucky charm!" Another fist on the table and her thoughts solidified further. "She is _River_! She is herself."

The rest of the crew was starting to ease away from the table, and Zoe had shoved Sierra into Simon's arms. Mal was still glaring at the girl, and the girl was two breathes away from jumping over the table and trying to get her Captain to listen by brute force. Which, if he was any judge of character, would do absolutely shit to help their cause. Reaching up, Riddick grabbed her by the arms and hauled her back into his lap. ::What is your damage girl,:: he snapped as he pinioned her in his grasp, one hand wrapped around both of hers. She didn't fight, but he could smell hints of witch-hazel in the air and knew that if he didn't get her shut down there was going to be blood, probably a lot of it his if he continued to try and block her.

"If he won't listen, if he won't even keep Mother in repair, how can he be trusted to do anything else she says is needful?" While the crew was absorbing that, she pushed visions of fiery death and pain his way. ::He will kill Paul! He will try and leave Sihnon before the work needed is done. Can_not_ let that happen!:: Snarling, she turned away from Riddick and back to Mal. "Could all die because he is too _zhí niù _to listen to the girl!"

She was fixated. He could feel guilt under all that anger and knew it didn't come from him. What had happened had happened, at least as far as her getting captured went. He'd found her because of it, and he couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for that. He wished, in some dark corner of his mind, that he'd chosen one of the many planets he'd passed by to set Kyra down on, so they wouldn't be in this situation, needing to go after her again. But if he hadn't had her along, would things have played out the same? It didn't matter. It was what it was now. All he could do was try and fix his mistake. Again.

River, on the other hand, couldn't shake the knowledge of her crew running themselves and their ship into the ground looking for her. He knew they didn't see her as just a lucky charm. Their worry and fretting over her for the past few days proved that. But that was the problem. In a way, she _was _their lucky charm, and without her they'd brought themselves to the brink of a fiery and painful death. For her.

He didn't know if those last thoughts were hers or if they came from his mind. He did know that he had to snap her out of this train of thought that led only one direction. The crew was still in shock, trying to come up with an answer for her, and he could smell regret and sadness and guilt coming off of them. Snorting it out of his nose, he focused on the steel and witch-hazel in his lap. Time for a distraction. Forcing a laugh that he knew wouldn't fool her, he let the animal nudge its head under her elbow where she was curled up against the side of the man. "How long people been trying to kill me girl?"

She stilled, calculations flew, and he nearly groaned. But her answer was lucid enough. "Found in the trash," she murmured. "Umbilical cord wrapped around his neck."

The crew went still, eyes wide and breath stuck in their throats. He ignored them. This wasn't for them. This was for her. "Right. They got me yet?"

She shuddered and shook her head. "No."

Simon, damn the man, couldn't help himself. "Umbilical cord," he croaked in question.

Riddick ignored him. "Then there's no way I'm dy'n in a crashing ship."

River snorted, but he'd at least managed to cut through the witch-hazel of her lunacy, if not the steel of her rage. The girl unwound a little in his head, and the weapon stepped back to her side of the bond.

"Girl's right Mal," Jayne said, taking a gulp of coffee and setting the cup down a little more forcefully than needed. Dark liquid sloshed. He ignored it. "You take care a' what's yours. That includes the ship. Rather not be float'n in the Black without power again, 'f it's all the same ta you." The crew gave a collective shudder and Riddick raised an eyebrow at River. She pushed images his way of fire in the engine room, Zoe unconscious in the infirmary, and coming back to the ship to find the Captain bleeding out on the deck. Snorting, Riddick shook his head. These people were all sorts of threat to life and limb. She agreed.

::You got your shit together,:: he asked, freeing one arm and running his fingers down her thigh.

In answer, she worked her hands out of the one still keeping them still and sat forward very carefully. He let her. There was still rage and frustration boiling around her, not only in her scent but in his mind as well. But she seemed to have a lid on it, and he couldn't see any of the tell tales that warned him of impending screaming and hitting. She was staring at her Captain as she levered herself up, and Riddick let one hand come to rest on her hip, a tactile gesture of support. "She will not break atmo from Sihnon until Serenity is well." She raised a hand palm up when Mal opened his mouth to protest and looked over at Kaylee. "Kaylee can tell you. The Mother is in need of full overhaul."

Hard blue eyes looked over at the mechanic, who set her jaw and nodded. Glaring, the man turned back to his Reader. "And what are we gonna do for money 'Tross? Ain't had a decent haul in weeks."

The anger was fading. Smug confidence replaced it and in his head Riddick could hear a giggle as lilacs and apples and rain bloomed around him. "Think the girl sits and stares into space while she takes bridge shift Captain? She has money. Really was going to give him half up front for cargo haul." A tinge of sadness, of guilt. Riddick pulled it away from her and into himself before she could let it take root. It was as much his anyways. She flicked a glance back at him before continuing. "Once we have landed, Kaylee can do full systems check. Make a list of what is needed."

The crew was looking from the Captain to the girl and back again as they tried to figure out who was going to win this encounter. Riddick knew. Captain or no, you don't fuck with the person driving the boat, not unless you know for sure you can do a better job than them. And he knew the Captain couldn't. He also knew there was no way in Hell that the man would try and overwhelm the girl by brute forcing her out of the position. For all his bluster, he really did care for her. It crippled him in some ways. River gave him a mental poke for that thought and reminded him that he'd crippled himself for her as well. As had she for him. He poked her back, just on principle.

"River," Simon was staring at his sister. "River, where _did_ you get the money? Even if you've been saving…" he trailed off. Riddick shook his head. Did the man listen at all?  
:: Distracted. He's going to be a father and now everyone knows.:: Another poke, and she turned her attention back to her brother and the crew, all waiting for the answer. Grinning, reeking of lilacs, she shrugged. "Trust fund."

The silence was deafening, broken only by the far of grinding of the engines, the thump of heartbeats, and the sucking in of breath as one after another they put the pieces together. Simon sat down with a thud. "River," he muttered and ran his hands through his hair. "River they crashed my accounts. Locked you out of yours, they had to. Mo-" he faltered, gulped, and continued. "They disowned us. How…"

"Can't stop the signal," the girl chirped, and resignation and anger flooded the room. Riddick frowned, but since it didn't seemed to be aimed at them, chose to keep his mouth shut for now. A hand ruffled ears, and the girl leaned back against the man. "Trust fund was a legal issue. Alliance left it alone. Payment for Tamms, or so they said. Come the age of majority, was set to be unlocked for use. If girl dead, money set aside for her would revert to biologicals' accounts." She shrugged and picked up her coffee. "The girl was not dead. The accounts were siphoned off to be hidden in government funds." Apples and rain joined the lilacs and her pleasure rose in his mind. "Sooooo many government accounts. Nobody can keep track of them all. Odd, how the fund for a state sponsored construction project that was to be completed by a less than reputable company suddenly lost so much money out of its holdings."

He couldn't see her face, but the look on the girl in his mind was positively smug. He blinked at her, the man in his mind and the man in the chair, and felt a sort of awe. He'd never bothered with hacking. He knew enough about math and computeres to pilot, to make a landing, to break atmo and so forth. But the requirements of outwitting computer systems tended to be beyond what the animal could manage, and the man depended on it too much for survival for him to trust pure intellect to keep them safe. This girl though. If he hadn't already been planning on never letting her go, this would have set that decision in stone. Able to do so much he couldn't, how could he lose that?

::She is not a tool,:: she sang in his head, and flung an elbow back towards his face in the physical.

He growled and dodged it, then snaked his arms through her elbows and yanked her backwards. ::Never said you were girl. You're my fucking match though.:: He pressed his nose to the back of her neck and inhaled apples and rain, steel , not-so-old sex, and just a hint of vanilla. ::Can do all sorts of things I can't. Glad of it.::

She relaxed in his grip, and passed him the surprise of the crew. He growled again. This having an audience thing was getting old. He glared at them around River, and in his mind the girl tittered. He ignored her. He was tired of being their entertainment. Tired of having them judge and analyze every move he and River made. Either they'd learn to live with them as they were, or he was going to have a very serious talk with River about the pros and cons of staying in a place that made him feel more like he was in a jail cell than he ever had when he was actually in prison. River sighed and he smelled cool water, apples and rain, and just enough steel to tell him that she wasn't happy with the watching either.

"It is very rude to stare," she said quietly, but firmly. "The warnings are still valid. And there is nothing you can do to stop them if you persist in treating them like a funhouse freak show." She pulled her arms from his grip and stood, picking up her coffee and unfinished plate of food. The crew was still gaping, for a different reason this time. Riddick gathered up the remains of his own meal, refilling the coffee and grabbing some of the fake meat slices he hadn't had a chance to load onto his plate before the crew started in on them. River was waiting for him by the door, and she took his coffee in trade for the plate of food as he came up next to her. But her eyes weren't on him. Steel and cool water dominated, and the waif in his mind was suddenly standing on a tree limb, glaring down at the stream.

"She knows," she said. "She knows that they would not stare as much if the two did not act so. She can hear you after all." Her eyes were hard as she lifted her chin. None of the crew looked as if they could string two words together, but surprise and resentment was building in the air, and scowls were starting to replace shock.

Except with Sierra. The little girl wiggled out of her chair and ran for River. One hand clinging to Riddick's pants, she wrapped the other arm around River's leg and buried her face in it. "Don't go River," the child wailed. If she'd understood nothing else of what happened in the room over the past twenty minutes, she'd understood the threat to leave. Riddick couldn't remember if she'd been around for any of the other conversations with the crew that had come around to that point. He thought not, otherwise she would have kicked a fuss before now. Grumbling internally, he shifted his burdens around so he could take the mugs of coffee from River. She bent down, disentangled Sierra's hand from his pants leg, and crouched to press her forehead to the little girls.

A step made him look over, and he met Zoe's eyes through the goggles. She'd been coming to retrieve her daughter, and the look on her face was a mix of anger and resignation. The sugar in her base scent was dim under the flatness coming off her now, and her lips were pressed into a thin line. River was whispering to Sierra, but he was only paying half attention to her. Animal and man were focused on the crew as they exchanged looks and words without words in that way only people who'd spent a very long time around each other could. Did he really think he could hook himself into this? In with these people who judged every breath he took? Home was wherever the girl was after all, and he knew she'd come with him if he left rather than take out his temper on these idiots.

Peat and bitter herbs rose behind him and he locked those thoughts down. This wasn't the time for it. He could hear the ETA timer in the bridge going off, and they'd have a lot more problems soon than just the judgment of the crew. And opportunities too, if things played out the way he thought they might. In the end, it came down to the two of them in the end. It always would. He was trying to make a go of it here, but the knowledge that she would follow if he left was both a comfort and a niggling worry. She was leaving him with his thoughts for now, and he appreciated it.

He knew that if he was really going to stay, really going to put up with these people and their need to pick everything he and the girl did to pieces, there was going to have to be a very, very good reason for it. Otherwise, he'd be forever looking at his way out, and River would never know if she should let herself hope. And the thought of her, always on edge, always waiting for him to make a choice and hurting because of it; that was enough to set off another small war between animal and man.

"The girl's family will have to learn." River's voice broke through his musings. He blinked, startled, and realized he'd lost track of his surroundings while he fought with himself. "Learn to accept the pair as they are," she continued. "They do not ask each other to change, nor should you expect it of them." He let her take the coffee mugs back, Sierra having been convinced to go back to her mother. River gave the crew, her family, all one last long look, and slipped out the hatch, calling over her shoulder. "We are not a freak show!"

Riddick took a moment to take in each of the faces, the embarrassment, the anger, the resentment that showed both in body language and scent, lifted one shoulder and smirked right at Mal. "Like the girl said. Learn to live with it. Said you'd listen to her after all." And then he turned to go, leaving shock and anger behind him and following apples and rain, peat and bitter herbs as the scent trail led him wherever River went.

**Author's Note**: Ah. Family drama. Don't you just love it? The cat's pretty much out of the bag for these two. Took a while to work around to, but hey…

Anyways, these guys aren't mine. I wish they were. I really do. It'd be so much fun. But no. Not mine. Boo

Rachet: Heh. Yeah. Kaylee got the short end of the stick. I think it may work out in the end though. He and River feel responsible for the latest mess. Don't think they want Kaylee in the middle of it getting hurt. The crew would have found out sooner or later anyways.

Shenandoah76209: Dunno. Like I mentioned in the PM, I think they like needling each other too much. We'll have to see though. Things may eventually settle down between them. I think part of it now is that the crew is in the thick of it, gumming up the works. Riddick seems to be changing his mind a lot on wether he thinks he can work with them or not. Stupid man…

Anon: Hey hey! Thanks for the reviews! Glad you're liking it! Not sure how the cross is going to work precisely. Still ironing out details. Thanks again!

Guineverekay: Lol. Isn't she though? Of course, shirtless Riddick…who wouldn't take a good look? As for the grudge holding…we'll have to see. I get the feeling he's gonna get the cold shoulder for a few days after this latest stunt.

Translations:

_Ge ge_ : brother

_mei_ : sister

_zhí niù _stubborn / willful / pigheaded / Taiwan p

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Lilac: mischief

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	33. Chapter 33

Ch. 33

_Beneath the skin of your aggression is a thickening fear_

_A swelling plague from every devastating voice that you hear_

_You feel the throes of contradiction in the world that you left_

_Another day in your delusion, the never-ending death._

"Annihilate the Corrupt", Demon Hunter

The ship shuddered and shook and River fought with the controls as she snarled curses on anything and everyone to get in her way. Riddick was doing what he could to help, acknowledging alarms and bringing up secondary options on his side of the bridge while the girl tried to get the starboard thruster and the pulse jets to make up for the fact that the portside thruster was wobbling dangerously. Back in the engine room Kaylee was yelling at Jayne, he could hear her over the speakers, if not over the racket of the ship as it entered atmo. River had tried to send him back there to help just before they'd started their descent. Her reasoning had been that their bond would make it easier to communicate what was needed without having to reach for the comms and risk losing control for that one crucial moment it took for the high winds of the upper part of the monsoon they were flying into to spin them around and slap them down into the rains below.

That plan had been nixed before he could even set foot in the engine room. Kaylee had seen him coming and launched a wrench at his head with impressive speed. He'd been so surprised by the action that he hadn't even thought to catch it. Luckily his reflexes still worked, sort of, and he managed to dodge just before it impacted with his skull. Girl had an arm on her, and aim too. River had doubled over laughing in his head, nuzzled the animal as it stared in shock, and called over the shipwide for Jayne to go help Kaylee.

Riddick had retreated, moving aside for the gun hand to pass as the other man chuckled. Amusement and worry followed him in the air before he disappeared into the engine oil and hot metal of the mechanic's domain, and he'd caught a muttered "Ya don't piss off the women here. Shouldna' outed her moron," before Jayne had switched over to yelping in alarm as a shower of sparks met his entry. Deciding he'd have to figure out later just what it was about helpless looking women and their need to chuck things at his head, Riddick had come back up to the bridge, strapped himself into the copilots seat, and went about making himself useful there. Mal had raised an eyebrow at that, but they didn't have time for arguments.

Port control was coming online now, asking for access codes and docking verifications. Mal took over the comms then, rattling off a spate of Chinese hardly broken once by anything Riddick could understand. Well, he would have understood it if the man had spoken a bit slower. River rolled her eyes at him over the console and shoved amusement his way. He'd picked up a lot in the past few weeks, and she was glad of it.

The next bit of thought came layered over with images, smells and sounds that put him in mind of New Mecca as he remembered it before heading for UV-6. A cultural repository, a beacon of Eastern Civilization. Golden roofs, circular sheets of metal hung between posts, people walking through marketplaces full of color and light. He curled a lip. Civilization. This was going to be fucking great. Whatever had happened to sticking to the Rim and its sparsely populated planets? How was she going to hide here? Neither of them would be able to leave the ship.

::Will have to. Paul is here. He will not open _Mik-lat _without the girl to vouch. And why would the Captain seek him without the girl? If not for her, if not for the Riddick, would have not have brought Inara to do her re-up for another couple of months.:: She broke off as a particularly nasty air pocket dropped them a good fifty feet and the motion of the ship yanked the yoke from her hands. Riddick hadn't lost his, and hauled on it to give the ship a modicum of balance while she got the rest of her systems to stop shrieking at her. Mal picked himself off the deck and growled at them both before going back to his argument with port control. Seemed like they didn't want him to land, or something.

Inara staggered in, took the comm from her husband, and rattled off something in an entirely different language. Mal rolled his eyes, Riddick blinked, and River snorted as she rolled her eyes. ::Thai. Very proud culture. Known in the time of Earth-That-Was for the women who sold themselves. Everywhere they could, to anyone that could pay. Men would be met at airports with offers of a woman for the night..:: Her voice was wry, and he had to bite back the laugh the rumbled through him. He already had two women on this boat chucking bits of hardware at his head. He had the feeling that Inara would do something much more subtle. Mal had been right. Fucking women ran this ship.

Port control sounded a lot more polite now, and River took the comm from Inara to get their docking coordinates, leaving Riddick to bring the ship down through the last of the clouds. Rain lashed at the windows, and the visibility was shit. He growled, fought the wind, and tried to ignore Mal when the man came over to watch over his shoulder. Just when he'd been doing ok, not wondering who to shiv next, one of them had to come over and crowd his space. Fucking perfect. He let the rumbling growl out past his lips and was mildly surprised when it didn't net him any citrus or anger. Amusement, mostly; balanced out with the flat tinge of wariness. At least the man had that much sense.

A hand dropped to the shoulders of the animal, and it butted its nose into the side of the girl as she draped herself across the tree branch next to it. River was grinning at him across the bridge, and he raised an eyebrow at her in question. She wasn't giving him much, just a brief thought of how much she liked having him work with her, in tandem, instead of needing to give direction and translate. He snorted, flipped the toggle that took complete control from her console and moved it over to his, and side slipped the ship to starboard.

The directional beacons beeping over the speakers quieted as he brought _Serenity_ in line with their docking guides, and Mal barked out a surprised "Hey, what the?"

River didn't fight him though. She was laughing, in his head and out loud, and let the weapon give him the fine details of the docking protocols while she flipped the toggle on her side of things that gave her the support role. He didn't have time for much after that, as he eased the ship through the rain and the darkness and set her down on a pad much larger than the one on Hibal had been. Mal had wisely kept his mouth shut on the questions he knew must be chasing themselves through the man's brain. Inara had slipped out at some point, leaving incense and anticipation in her wake. He'd caught a glimpse out the windows, of a vast array of lights glimmering through the wet atmosphere, and knew that the docks they'd just landed in were just a miniscule patch of territory compared to the city around them.

But he hadn't been looking for details, and he wasn't all that interested at the moment anyways. River's mind was starting to twist in on itself. He wasn't getting any fear from her, or any worry. But the calculations and plans flew, and all he could make of it was that she was working herself up for a confrontation of some sort. Curiously, he poked at the girl, and she barely twitched. When he flipped the last toggle for the landing checklist, he turned to look at her. Her eyes were fixed on her Captain, who was looking from one side of the bridge to the other like he was trying to find the metaphorical rug they'd pulled out from under his feet. Man must know his boat well, Riddick thought, to realize when they'd switched off pilots. Neither had said anything after all.

Standing, Riddick reached for one of the handles overhead and stretched. It hadn't been all that hard really, but any landing in an unfamiliar craft had an element of tension, and this ship was a lot more unwieldy than the _Hound_ had been. River's half hidden thoughts weren't helping much, and he shoved another question at her before cracking his neck and grinning at the Captain. "Know a lot more than killing and murder Mal. For as much as you like to poke your nose into things, woulda thought you'd notice we weren't just desecrating your precious bridge."

Mal sputtered, turned colors, and Riddick couldn't pin down the mix of scents that came off the man. River transmitted embarrassment, evaluation, and outrage his way, and he laughed. Stepping around the Captain, he cupped a hand around her head and dropped a kiss on its crown before heading for the hatch. "Gonna go get our gear," he said as he turned around. "Meet you in the second shuttle."

"Hey," the Captain had found his voice, and he had his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. "Where do you plan on goin'? Need that shuttle ta get Inara ta the Trainin' House."

River snorted and reached to clip the comm mike back in its place. "It is known. But the girl and the man are coming with you," she glared at him as he opened his mouth to protest. "Need to find Paul. And he is beyond the Houses of the Companions. Cannot be flying all over the city in _Serenity_. We will be noted."

"No," Mal scowled right back. "You ain't go'n anywhere. Face is marked, remember? Scans will catch you minute you step outside the ship. Hell," he threw his hands in the air. "Get away from that window, they probl'y seen you already."

Riddick leaned back against the bulkhead and crossed his arms, ready to enjoy the show. It was always entertaining to watch the girl tie others up in logical knots and proceed to do just what she wanted anyways. And it was loads more fun than when she did it to him. That earned him a kick in the ribs from the weapon and the man grunted in protest. The animal just draped itself over the girl's legs and twitched its tail as it watched through slitted eyes. It was going to be a good one too.

Engine grease and gun oil announced the arrival of Kaylee and Jayne just outside the hatch, and he shifted over to block their entry. Kaylee scowled and jabbed him in the ribs with some sort of part and he ignored her. River's mind was settling into the flat calm that came with the scent of cool water, and Mal had no idea what he was in for.

"The girl is going," she spat. "Cannot stop her. Can't even start the shuttle without her!" River crossed her arms in a mirror of the Captain's stance and scowled up into his face.

"An' if you get triggered," Mal leaned forward to meet her eyes. "If the Feds find you? Hell, girl, what if the gangs decide you look like an easy mark? What then?"

That brought the man and the animal to attention. ::Gangs?:: Feds didn't worry the him, and if the girl wasn't twitching and stinking of witch-hazel and charcoal like she had on Persephone, there must not be much risk of the trigger in their heads getting pulled. But she'd neglected to mention that most common of criminal elements in any big city. Piss off the wrong bunch of people and they could come up with some truly creative ways to get back at you, up to and including tipping off dirty cops to put a landing lock on your getaway vehicle. He wasn't so much worried for his own sake, but everything came back to the fact that she looked like bait, and if the wrong sort of people found out just what she was capable of, things could get bloody in a very public, very bad way.

She dismissed his concern just as easily as she dismissed that of her Captain. He found himself tensing, hands clenched and very much not amused as she ignored him entirely. "Doesn't matter," she snapped, sidestepping the issue entirely. "Need to get Inara to the Training House. Only then can they continue and find Paul."

"And that's another thing that needs speakin' on," Mal started as he stepped forward to glare down at her.

Riddick had had enough. It wasn't entertaining anymore, and they were wasting time. Pushing himself off the wall, he went to go invade the Captain's personal space. See how he liked it. "We can take the first shuttle," he rumbled, right over Mal's protest. "You take Inara, get your business done. We'll stay and finish our work. Let you know later where you can pick up the shuttle."

River's mind went still. Mal glared at him. In the door, he could hear Jayne and Kaylee's heart rates pick up. The gun hand barked out a "Now wait just one ruttin' minute!" Kaylee just made a sound like a lost child in the back of her throat.

Riddick looked over at her to see two huge eyes over a hands clasped to her mouth, glaring hurt and accusation. But not at him. Oddly enough, the woman was looking at Mal. "Will you stop?" She asked in a broken voice. "Please Cap'n? We just got her back. Please," she stepped onto the bridge and around Riddick to lay her hand on her Captain's arm. "Please don't run her off again. Please don't let them do this alone."

Silk flowed through the room, mixing with the cool water to form something entirely new. A glance at River showed her eyes lighting up. A small hand wrapped itself around the arm of the man in his mind, and he could feel her leaning on him, both in the physical and the mental. He shifted his weight just enough to press his bulk against her shoulder in acknowledgement before going back to the matter at hand.

Jayne had stepped through the hatch now, and was scowling at them all. "Hell Mal, what you got to be so gorram stubbon for? Girl wouldn't a brought us here if it were that dangerous. We been through the city afore, just gotta step light."

::Any time you want to explain girl,:: Riddick looked down at those big dark eyes, but she shook her head.

::No time now. Promises she will tell him later though.::

He grumbled, but didn't see the point in arguing. Mal was realizing that his whole crew was against him in this, if only for the fact that they didn't want to lose River again. Whatever else they may have thought of her, whatever else they thought of the man she'd brought home, the loved her. Fear aside, unexpected shrieking and who knew what other antics aside, they wanted her on board. Riddick grumbled again, this time entirely in his own mind, and felt River agree. Their minds were all made up; it was just that they didn't seem to know it yet. Why couldn't they come over all accepting when he and the girl did something they didn't understand?

::Don't know,:: River whispered and leaned a little harder against his side. ::She hopes they will figure it out soon. Being the rope in Tug of War is tiring.::

::Got that right,:: he snorted, draped one arm over her shoulder, and met Mal's eyes through the goggles. "Listen, remember? Ain't steered me wrong yet." Tugging lighting on her, the big man turned and guided the girl out of the bridge and down the hall. She giggled in his head and reached up to lace her fingers with those of the hand over her shoulder and he laughed along with her as she gave him a peek at the stunned surprise coming off of Mal.

~HHYFN~

Jayne was waiting for him when he came back out of the shuttle. Riddick raised an eyebrow at the man as he came down the steps, checking the feel of the gun in its thigh holster and making sure he could get the clip off quickly enough when it came time. The look on the other man's face was approving, and he gave the convict a half grin as he bit the end off of a cigar. The air in the bay was wet, flat, and rank with the smells of overheated rubber and rotting vegetation. The rain outside was doing little to help and even from where he stood he knew that if it was a sauna in here, it must be nigh on impossible to breath out there. And all this with the bay doors only barely cracked. He sent a thought River's way as he came down to floor level, to the effect of her picking places like this just to annoy him. She sent amusement back his way, but didn't deny it.

"What you need Jayne? 'Bout ready to kick on here," Riddick frowned, unsatisfied with the way the gun sat along his leg, and wished he'd never bothered in the first place. Pulling it out, he sat down on a crate to get the holster resituated. Didn't seem smart anyways, carrying a piece so openly in a place like this. But River had been insistent that he'd need it, and there was something in the way she'd shove the apparatus his way that told him she was less than happy with it either.

"Zoe usually takes this run," Jayne said once he'd dropped the cigar end into a bucket of trash and old rags sitting nearby. "Cap'n don't like me near them Companion folk. Think's I'll dirty Inara's reputation too much," the man snorted and shook his head as he clamped the cigar between his teeth and reached for the box of matches Riddick could smell somewhere on his person. It was in his pants pocket.

Slipping the gun back into the holster and resigning himself to the dead weight of it, he moved on to the blades he'd been carrying rolled up in his ulak harness. The whole thing needed to be cleaned an oiled again. The leather was starting to get stiff and it would only get worse in this rain. "Got a point Jayne?"

The taller man shrugged and scraped the match along the stair rail, then held the flame to the end of his cigar. A couple of puffs later, off towards the rear of the bay instead of in Riddick's direction, and the man looked back down at him. "Been on this crew nigh on seven years now. Seen all sorts of shit. Cap'n, threaten the crew an' ya threaten him. Zo, ya threaten Sierra or this ship, find yourself in a whole shitload of trouble." Another puff. "Seen plenty of men lose their tempers. Got one on you, don't ever look ta get in your way you decide I'm 'tween you an' what ya want."

Riddick snorted. These were things he already knew. The tension dripping off this man, despite his casual leaning against the railing of the stairway, meant that there was something more going on here. He just couldn't figure it out between the general reek of the air and the cigar smoke that was starting to work its way up his nostrils.

In his mind he looked for the girl, but she was watching quietly from her perch, and didn't have anything to add beyond a quiet ::Will not be much left to explain,::

"This planet, ain't as safe for normal folk as it used ta be. Feds pull'n out, build'n up forces out on the Border. Have been ever since the broadwave." Jayne shrugged and flicked some ash into the trash bin. Riddick eyed it warily, but there hadn't been any sparks. "Three years since 'Nara turned _liè tóu rén_. Three years we've had ta stop off here so she can give her reports." The man's lip curled and he looked at the cracked open bay doors with disgust. Riddick could smell it, even over the smoke. "An' every year the crime rate goes up. Ain't against it as a general rule... But ya gotta cross alotta territory 'tween here and the Train'n House."

"Thought that's why we're taking the shuttle." Riddick laced his fingers together and propped his elbows on his knees.

Jayne shrugged and flicked some more ash off into the can. "Can't fly too high though. Upper reaches are just for those to rich and fanciful to slum it with the masses. River, she ain't never left the ship on one of these runs. Know she'll be ok, but she crosses into the wrong airspace, the gangs what run the streets now may try and force ya down. That or the Resistance groups might decide you look a little too rich to be need'n a shuttle ta get around in."  
That earned him a frown, and Riddick could feel River in his head as she dropped out of the tree and came to stand next to the man. Every breath she took oozed contempt for the threats outside the ship, and he had a sudden epiphany as to why, at least as far as the Resistance groups went. ::Don't tell,:: she said, clinging to his arm. ::Spoil Christmas. Spoil the surprise,:: she frowned and growled and he caught a trickle of irritation that tasted like the Captain. ::Don't want to be covered questions like rain.::

Shaking his head, Riddick let her be. He'd find out why she was so scared of him hating this Paul person sooner or later. Himself, he figured he already knew as much as he needed to. The man had hunted her, man had quit. Man had helped her get her mind mostly squared away. So far he didn't see a problem. River just twitched her whole body in one massive shudder and went back to prepping the shuttle for launch.

Jayne, of course, thought the headshake was for him. "Ain't a thing to take lightly. Know she can fly. Guess you can too. But there's walk'n to be done tween here an' there, an' there are ways ta bring you down." He leaned forward so he could meet Riddick's eyes through the goggles. "My job ta protect the crew. I can't do that from here. Mal'd die for alla us. 'Nara's ok but she ain't a killer. And River?" He snorted and took another drag on the cigar. "She's saner than she used ta be but crowds still get ta her. Dunno if you've seen her go completely monkeyshit in a crowd yet," he blinked at the look Riddick was giving him and backpedaled a bit. "Ah mean when she ain't been triggered. Don't need that ta go all woolly and start lay'n into folk." A shudder; and Riddick wondered what the story was about that one. River had gone mute in his head, and he had the feeling that he wouldn't be getting an explanation from her either.

"Got a point Jayne, or do you just like running your mouth?" Riddick stood and looked up at the catwalk. River was there, elbows on the railing as she watched them.

She grinned when he saw her, waggled her fingers, and turned to go back into the shuttle with a quiet ::Captain Daddy is almost ready.::

::And I'm almost done here,:: he replied, just a little more worried about whatever it was Jayne was trying to tell him, and getting more and more curious by the second.

Jayne took another long drag and blew the cloud of smoke out into the center of the bay as he watched the Reader vanish through the shuttle hatch. "Comes down ta this. Seen ya fight. Can you fight ta protect, or just go off like a loose cannon the way Moonbrain does sometimes? Cause if ya can't, just gonna make things worse, for ever'one."

Irritation rose in Riddick as the animal hissed at the accusation. The man tempered it with interest that the gun hand was so worried and the confidence that whatever else he may think of their abilities, the cards weren't all on the table yet. He still had a few surprises in store for these people, and if they thought all he was good for was losing his temper and exploding, they had another thing coming. And the best way to show them that was to do precisely the opposite. So the animal let the man muscle it down and turned its attention to the interesting part of this little exchange, instead of the annoying.

The girl sat on the stream bank and watched; knees up to her chest and hands wrapped around them. But she was silent, letting it play out as it would, and the animal came over to flop down next to her as the man took over.

Footsteps on metal made the two men look up, and Mal was standing on the catwalk, watching them with narrowed eyes. Seeing that he'd been noticed, he waved his hand and called "'Bout ready? Time ta go. City's too big ta be leav'n late."

Riddick just shrugged in reply and looked back at Jayne. "Interesting, how worried ya are about this. It cause of the girl? Or cause of your crew?"

Jayne's face twisted into a frown as it darkened, and his scent took on a mix of anger and embarrassment. "Told ya before," he muttered. "My job ta look after the crew."

Riddick barked out a chuckle, and had the satisfaction of seeing the other man twitch. "For a man in your line of work Jayne, you're a terrible liar."

In his mind, River snorted and chucked a rock on his direction. ::Time to go now please. Hurry or the Captain will leave you behind.::

The animal flattened its ears, but it was more at the implications that he came when called than anything else. Riddick glanced up at the shuttle and shrugged. Not for Mal he didn't, but he'd already established that where River went, he'd follow. Leave Jayne to frown and mutter behind him, he headed up the stairs, calling down behind him. "Dunno Jayne, gotta say though, glad you never made a move on her."

Jayne managed to stop choking on his inhale long enough to croak "Like all my bits in one piece," before going back to trying to clear his system of all the smoke he'd just swallowed.

Riddick laughed and it rang through the cargo bay, full of dark amusement. River met him in the shuttle hatch, shaking her head and grinning as she moved aside to let him in and Inara raised an eyebrow at him as he took a place on one of the benches along the bulkhead. As two up front worked the little craft free of _Serenity_, the woman murmured "Retrograde jealously?"

Riddick leaned back and closed his eyes against the glare of the shipyard lights as they came through the viewports. "Why bother. She's bound to me."

Up in the tree again, the animal inched closer to where the girl had draped herself over a branch to trail her fingers along the shoulder of the man below her, and having set it's chin along the back of her leg, went to sleep.

**Author's Note: ** Hey there! We're making progress! I promise I'm trying to move things forward. I'm also just plain trying to write. The husband brought home a next of baby mice from work the other day and I've been stuck feeding them every hour now. Gah.

I wanted a bit of Jayne-Riddick interaction and I didn't think Mal would be too happy with River for wanting to come along with him. The man's stubborn isn't he? I actually like him lots, but I can't just have him roll over and cave every time River gets another hairbrained idea. Although it'd be highly entertaining…

I'm implying a lot here in terms of the situation on Sihnon, what with the Resistance and all. Remember, there were blackout zones on Osiris. There a have to be places all over that have pockets of malcontents. And with Sihnon being like a living culture museum (I'm working off info from the Wiki here…) I'd imagine it would have a few more than others.

I am however, imagining Sihnon as being very Thai in some ways. And not just the fact that it is home to a lot of Companions. Thailand was the one South East Asian country that didn't get turned into a colony by the English, and they are very proud of it. There's so much more to the country than the overabundance of whores. The heavy Buddhist influence is another. And the sheer beauty of the place, like those huge beehive mountains that just pop right up out of the ground. I've been there a couple times, and I'd love to go back. So please, don't be offended that River pretty much summed up the place by "lots of whores". Cause that's kinda true too, and in relation to Inara, it's just a little funny. To me at least.

Shenandoah76209: Yeah. River. I'm trying to work crew interactions in as I go without making it feel like I'm going down a list or anything. Kaylee's being a pain though. I tried three or four variations on this chap where he actually ends up in the engine room helping her and they all sounded so forced that I just went and chucked a wrench at his head instead. We'll just have to see where this goes. Simon's being a butthead too. Stupid overprotective brother complex

Rachet: I need to go hunt down that band. Meant to over the holiday, but…mice. And grilling and baking and life took over.

Beth Weasley: Tee hee

Guineverkay: Lol. Thanks… I think. I'm trying to keep them in character, but when it comes to this incarnation of Riddick that translates into "Pains in the Ass". And no, no Fiery Death occurred. I nearly lit the tree on fire though. And it wasn't even in my own backyard! Oops…

Dherea: Hey hey! A fresh face! So nice to have you! Glad you like the story! The mental v.s external conversations are like juggling geese. I'm glad they seem to be working. And hey, a Jayne conversation! Thanks for the review! Hope to see you soon! Enjoy!

Translations

_Mik-lat:_bomb shelter,haven—Hebrew (really butchered too I think…)

_liè tóu rén_: head hunter, recruiter

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Lilac: mischief

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Port control: the people telling you where to dock, etc

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	34. Chapter 34

Ch. 34

_Envy and its evil twin_

_It crept in bed with slander_

_Idiots they gave advice_

_But sloth it gave no answer_

_Anger kills the human soul_

_With bitter tales of lust_

_While pavlov's Dogs keep chewin'_

_On the legs they never trust_

"Seven Deadly Sins", Flogging Molly

Whatever Jayne had been worried about with the gangs and the Feds trying to force them out of the sky, Mal was apparently familiar enough with that he knew where to fly to get them from point A to point B without incident. River hadn't actually flown, and when Riddick pushed the question her way as to why, he got a jumble of thoughts that had to do with masses of people, needing to pull the route from Mal's head, and a shitload of worry attached to a vague image of an unfamiliar face he guessed must be Paul's. Apparently it was easier to just let Mal fly than deal with everything at once. He didn't care either way. So long as the man didn't crash them, he was just along for the ride. She giggled at that, and the other two yanked their heads up to stare before exchanging one those looks only someone who'd had long acquaintance with the girl would understand.

Inara was quiet next to him, working on something on the portable Cortex, and eventually Riddick propped his feet up on the bench opposite. He drifted, not allowing himself to fall asleep completely, but not really awake either. It was a soldier's doze, one he'd used many times over the years since he'd worn a uniform. Who knew what shit would come his way next. Better to sleep while he could. Or at least rest. It didn't feel quite right, not having a small body tucked up against his, but she was in his nose, and he could hear her heart beating, so that made it a bit better.

Not for the first time, he wondered at the oddness of it. Him. Richard B. Riddick. Big bad. Murderer and animal. A man who'd sworn never to let anyone, much less a woman, under his skin again. And that had been years ago, on Sigma in fact. He'd woken on a ship, cryo lines feeding into his arms and cuffs on his wrists and come to the realization that everything he'd been working towards was gone. That girl, whose name the animal still kept, couldn't be brought back by all the revenge in the world. Somehow they'd gotten wind of the evidence he'd been trying to put together, and the omnipresent Company had done what it always did to those that threatened it.

They'd made him disappear, dumped him in the highest security Slam they could reach. They hadn't had to worry about paying anyone off. They ran it after all. And why not? He wasn't the first person who'd tried to take them down. Just one of the most dangerous both in training and what he'd managed to get access to.

Not that it mattered. He'd escaped. Ran. Ran until he ran himself right back into another slam, then into Lordship, then into a bond with a girl who knew his whole history and accepted it anyways. If he'd told the kid he'd been that this is what would happen with his life; that he'd glow blue and kill half dead men and end up talking in his head with a girl who had enough personal demons to match and maybe even outnumber his own, what would he have done?

::Doesn't matter,:: Her voice was firm, and he looked up to see her turned around in her seat, eyes serious as she met his. ::Past is past. It makes us. Your channel has joined hers in the river. If the girl had known what would happen, back when she begged for a new school and higher learning, she would still do it over. She is who she is and the Riddick is who he is. We are matched, and our experiences have made us so.:: Turning back to the controls and the watery lights coming through the viewports, she sent him back that same confidence they'd poured into their foundations barely a week ago. ::She would do it all again, so long as she knew you were at the end of it.::

The animal rumbled deep inside, and Inara twitched as the sound made its way out of his chest. But he ignored her, eyes fixed on the slim figure in the bow of the shuttle. The man settled himself a bit deeper among the roots of the tree, wrapping strong arms and legs around the girl in his lap, and for the first time in years he fell into a deep sleep while in the company of strangers.

~HHYFN~

They'd landed Serenity just before dawn, made it out of the spaceport not long after, and flown for hours before they reached the landing area closest to the walled compound of the Madrassa Training House. It was almost noon by the time they got there, and daylight had come with the typical suddenness of equilateral zones; sun filtering through the clouds and rain to hit the plasglass viewports and magnify till the shuttle felt like a small oven. Riddick was sweating long before they touched down, and Inara flapped a futile hand to try and get some air moving. Once they'd landed and gotten locked into place, he braced himself for what he knew was coming.

Sure enough, the hot, damp air outside was like being slapped in the face with a metric ton of bricks. Mal croaked something derogatory behind him as Inara muttered about not missing the humidity. River just set her jaw, and he could feel her in his head, thinking of snow and cold and everything that wasn't jungle air. He himself was missing UV-6, a thing he thought would never happen. But at least there things had been too cold to smell the stench.

River was checking the gun at her hip and scowling when he turned to look at her. She gave him irritation, resignation, and a hope that they could get this part over with quickly so they could keep going. When he pushed questions her way, she sighed and slipped between Mal and Inara to stand next to him. ::Must make it through a market first. Then up the hill to the Training House. They will want to treat us as guests. If we make it out before it is too late to continue it will be a surprise.:: Dark eyes looked up into his. ::Streets are more dangerous at night, at least on ground level, and that is where we will be.::

Riddick took a moment to look around. He hadn't bothered on the flight in, and then he'd been more focused on how Mal was landing the shuttle to look around much. The area of the city they were in was populated mainly by four and five story buildings, all white sides and turned up corners on the rooftops. Rounded windows and odd proportions added to the effect of having been dropped inside a child's playhouse. In the distance, scattered in different places along the horizon, he could see clusters of much taller buildings, all metal and glass and built into some shapes that he wasn't entirely sure should have been possible. But he wasn't an engineer, and if they hadn't fallen down yet they probably weren't likely too any time soon. None of his concern anyways.

Just to the north a lone hill rose straight up out of the ground. It was covered in jungle growth and topped in a walled compound with white and red and gold walls. Further than that he could see more hills, spread along the entire northern horizon. The city stretched up to a set of low mountains there, or foothills for the higher mountain range behind them, and the elevation didn't so much slop upwards as make a sudden and decided lurch for the heavens. He had a sinking feeling he was going to find himself climbing. River confirmed it. Well, he'd climbed worse, and in worse circumstances than in the drizzling haze that the rain had receded to. So long as it didn't decide to pour.

::Just had to think it,:: River grumbled at him as the heavens opened up again. They hadn't left the covered loading pad just next to the shuttle, and she peered out through the sheets of water that dripped off the edge of the awning. The downspouts, worked into the shapes of mythical animals, were doing shit for keeping the water where it was supposed to go. Behind him he could hear Mal grumbling about the wet and Inara's resigned sigh. When he looked over his shoulder he saw the Companion shaking her head as she fished around in a nearby bin for something.

::Umbrella:: River came over to see what he was looking at. ::Does not do for a Companion to arrive looking like a drowned rat.::

Riddick shook his head and turned back to the downpour. "Any way we can hitch a ride?" He wasn't hopeful. The little landing zone was void of life, theirs being the only shuttle.

"No," Inara had found what she was looking for, a dark pole about the length of her arm. She held it out in front of her like a weapon as she walked up to the sheets of water between them and exposure. "You do not approach the Companions except under your own power. The climb up the hill will not be so bad, there are coverings there. The marketplace though…" She shrugged, flipped a switch on the pole, and something hummed to life inside it. Riddick blinked as a circular frame popped up, bringing shingled plates of something dark and vaguely purplish along with it.

The umbrella was as wide as his shoulders, and Mal shook his head as he went to go take it from his wife. "Woman, you are going to end up dropping that. Here," he took it from her, half stuck it through the waterfall in front of them, and the pair stepped through as he maneuvered the thing up to his shoulder. Riddick raised an eyebrow at the two as Inara kissed her husband's cheek and muttered something that the pounding of the rain above kept him from really understanding. Not that he needed to. It was the sort of exchange he'd seen from Imam and his woman on occasion, words between people long used to and entirely comfortable with each other.

::It is what others see with the girl and the Furyan as well,:: River stepped just a little closer and he could finally catch her scent and hear her heart over everything around them. He inhaled apples and rain and realized the cool water that came off of her was distinct from the water around them. Interesting.

::Apologies,:: she ran a hand down the back of the animal where it lay next to her and leaned her head up against the shoulder of the man who still had her wrapped in his limbs. ::Need to be the merc woman now. Still possible watchers. Cannot let them know by body language and voice that she could be a target.::

Riddick growled and kept himself from reaching for her by the barest of margins. She was right, fuck it all anyways. The rain would help keep the possibility of identification down, but he moved like trouble. She, in the normal course of things, moved like a dancer. The merc woman she channeled though, she didn't. She moved like she was _looking_ for trouble, which fit with what he knew of the few women who made any sort of headway in that profession. It took a certain mindset to carve a place among men who'd as soon slave a twelve year old girl out as they would teach her the trade.

River's mind twitched slightly and he shied away from that train of thought, focusing on the here and now instead. There'd be no umbrellas for him. Nor for River if she was going to be convincing. Too likely to get in their way if something happened. Grumbling to himself about the rain and needing to find a new harness for his blades after all this was over, he glanced down at River, got a solid nod of confirmation in return, and stepped through the barrier between mostly dry and completely drenched. She followed half a step behind, and he discovered one good thing about the downpour. It kept him from smelling the change in her scent that came with the switch in personalities. She was slightly harder to hold onto in his mind, but otherwise the bond hadn't shifted much.

Mal and Inara were waiting for them a few steps away, and set out for the gate as they approached. Mal half turned to look at the two as he went, and he must have seen something he didn't like, because he jerked his chin at Riddick. More curious than irritated, still focused on keeping track of River with his mind and finding it harder with every step not to stare as she swaggered through the rain, the big man moved up next to the Captain. Inara glanced at them out of the corner of her eyes, and then back at River. The girl grinned in return, all hard eyes and too many teeth.

Mal looked over as his wife shuddered, glanced back at his Reader, and shook his head. Turning back to Riddick, he glowered. "Don't push her," he said, and it was a good thing the ex-convict had the ears he did, because he might not have heard it over the pounding rain otherwise. "How do you think she passes as a Companion? Or anythin' else? It ain't all the clothes, I can tell ya that."

Riddick rumbled out a growl, but couldn't help the words that followed. "She's not her when she does that." He sounded childish, even to his own ears, and in his mind the hard edged woman laughed in derision. The animal swatted at her on reflex and for a moment the image wavered and he could see the girl underneath. She dropped a fistful of dust on the animal's nose and shot him a glare so murderous he was mildly surprised she hadn't gone for a weapon.

Mal had missed half the exchange, but he stopped midstep, surprising Inara so much that she nearly lost the cover of the umbrella. "Don't care what's go'n on tween you two," and this was the Captain speaking. "This is what she does an' this is how she does it best. Let her be, let her do her thing. Or ya gonna ask her ta change herself back so's she can get us all picked up?"

Riddick lifted a lip in disgust, but the man was overriding the animal. Fuck if the Captain wasn't right. She could get them all killed, being who she was normally. He'd just been thinking that exact thing.

::Think of it as another facet of the girl.:: Her voice was soft, gentle even. He was having a hard time reconciling it with the woman who stood, fingers hooked in her belt loops, gun riding easily on her hip and snapping eyes challenging him. ::She is still River. This is just a could-have-been, had she taken a different course in the landscape of her life.::

Something snapped into place for both man and animal then, and he got it. Or at least he thought he did. She channeled personalities, funneled them down a streambed in her mind and became different. But it was still the River, and she was still in control. The animal snorted, climbed back up into the tree, and ceded the field to the merc woman and the man. Let them be human. His time would come.

Mal and Inara were still watching him, and the matched evaluation in their eyes was only slightly unnerving. The whole married couple, family angle coming up to bite him in the ass again. He was starting to think these people were psychic and just didn't know it.

Just to prove he wasn't off balance, he snorted, cracked his neck, and raised an eyebrow. "We gonna get going," he asked. "Or stand here and drown?"

Inara laughed, River rasped out a chuckle, and Mal nodded. "Let's git then."

~HHYFN~

They made it halfway through the market that ringed the base of the hill when trouble found them. In fact, it landed square on Riddick's shoulders. It was only reflex born of long years of survival that kept him from getting his throat cut as he rolled out from under whoever it was who'd gotten the drop on him. Irritation and anger planted a seed in his mind, and he found himself furious that he hadn't seen this coming. Hadn't had more warning than the mutters of the crew before they'd left. The girl had been on this planet before. Surely she could have let him know. Cursing the rain that pounded down on everything, creating a din that muffled all but the loudest of noises and laying down a ground mist that stifled everything his nose could have used to help him out; Riddick came to his feet and took stock.

The market was mostly abandoned, only a few people ducking from shop to shop, the street-side stalls housing only resigned and bored looking attendants. That should have been his first warning, the fact that all the shopkeepers in the immediate vicinity had mysteriously vanished. But he'd been trying to keep track of his crew, and had only been grateful for the cessation of calls for attention and offers of a sale. Everywhere he looked; water dripped and ran, combining with the dim light filtering through the clouds to create artificial cover for whoever was out there.

For a second he thought of taking his goggles off, but River's panicked ::No!:: in his mind made him think twice. Whatever had set off that alarm in her, he was willing to listen, even though he'd be demanding explanations later. He was tired of running around blind. She was crouched by the stream, blades drawn and glaring down at the water that ran past her feet. Steel boiled over her skin, tempered by rivulets of cool water.

Spread in front of them were five men, tented over in something dark and waterproof, if the streams of water running over the fabric was anything to go by. A warm body pressed up against his back, and River gave him a mental image of four more, similarly clothed, behind them. He tilted his head to look for Mal, and found him a couple of feet away. He had Inara behind him and was working his way backwards towards River. That was all he had time for, because the first attacker had found his feet and was coming for him again, knife out in front of him.

Riddick stepped up to meet him, caught the outstretched wrist, turned, and let the man use his own momentum to get his arm twisted up behind his back. Inertia won out over the force behind him, and the attacker tripped forward, helped by a solid foot Riddick planted in the man's side. There was a crunching pop and the man screamed as his arm dislocated at the shoulder. The scream was cut short as River turned and ran the edge of the blade in her hand across the man's tneck as he stumbled towards her. Riddick let go of the arm he had hold of and the man dropped, blood pouring from his throat to pool at the Reader's feet, and he didn't think he'd seen anything quite so sexy in his life. She flashed him a hard smile, then turned back to her half of the men that still surrounded them.

"See now," Mal's voice was calm, amused even. "That there's what I like to call underestimate'n your opponent. "

"Owe us a_ fèi,_" One of the men facing Riddick called out. He was just a pair of eyes in the hood over his head, and the blade in his hand was as long as the ex-convict's arm. Riddick growled and reached for his ulaks, feeling Riving palm one of his longer blades from the back of his belt. In his head she was feeding him what was happening on her side of things. The gang, or whatever they were, was working to surround them. Spread out and create a bigger target.

"Inara," he growled out of the corner of his mouth, and felt more than heard the woman as she twitched slightly in response. Mal had gotten her backed up all the way into his side, and while on one hand it was a good thing, her being least able to defend herself of the three, it restricted the possibilities some. "This starts," he continued, "You drop, got me? Drag Mal down if you can."

She snorted; he managed not to roll his eyes. What were these people, stupid?

::Special sort of stupid,:: River replied. ::Tend to survive it though.::

::Just fucking great,:: he grumbled back.

"Don't owe you nothin'," Mal shot back at the leader. "See, this big man here? Pay him for good reason. Hell," the Captain was almost laughing. "Don't hardly even hafta pay him, I find him a tussle he likes well 'nough. You boys," Mal stopped to grin at them, and Riddick wished he could smell whatever insanity was coming off the man so he could figure out how serious he really was, "You boys look like just enough of a tussle he might owe _me._"

"Fuck that," Riddick grumbled, playing along as the leader of the gang yelled in outrage and swung his sword high. "Gonna have to find me more of a challenge than this."

"What the hell do you want," Mal shot back as the men charged. A bullet clipped him in the shoulder and he grunted in pain before sending the attacker down with a shot to the throat. "Reaver attack or something?"

Riddick didn't answer. He was busy ducking the long reach of the sword headed his way. Behind him the girl had melted into the weapon, and he could feel the shift in his head as seamlessly as water over a stone. Gone was the merc woman, this was all River; and he reveled in the feeling of having death's dancer back at his side. He came up under the swing that had been aimed for his head, drove the serrated curve of the ulak up under the man's sternum, and followed him down. Internal organs squelched and bone crunched as the force of the blow drove the weapon all the way back to the spinal column. Riddick left it there for now, it would take too long to get the thing out.

River called out in his head and he scooped up the sword from the dead man's hand and tossed it to her hilt first as he turned. She caught it, spun, and gave the man trying to come at her from behind a solid cut that opened him up from shoulder to hip. He screeched, waving a gun as he went down; and Riddick dove forward, yanking Inara to the ground half a second before the thing went off and sent a bullet through the airspace she'd been occupying. Mal, luckily enough, had moved away a bit, and was picking off the men that seemed to be more interested in taking out the non-gunwielding members of the party. Riddick growled low at Inara, gave her an extra shove to keep her down, and climbed back to his feet.

There were more men now, rushing out of shadowed alleys and dropping from the permanent awnings over shop fronts. Riddick spun to place his back against River's and reached for her in his mind. She funneled the emotions of the attackers towards him, sending anger, indignation, and a determination to show these strangers just who owned these streets. Lucky, few of them were looking to use their guns. They were out for blood now; and convinced that numbers would overwhelm and they'd get themselves a piece of the wanna-be Companion. Maybe the even the girl too.

Riddick hooked a foot around Mal's ankle and dropped him just as a morningstar on a long chain nearly caved in his head. Taking just long enough to snarl at the Captain and plant a boot in his chest to keep him out of the way, the Furyan wrenched his abandoned ulak free of the body it was imbedded in.

Mal was still trying to get to his feet, but Inara had one hand wrapped in his suspenders to keep him down. The other held her short barreled pistol, and she was aiming right at the nearest gang member. The man fell, head snapping back as the bullet hit the inside of his skull and undoubtedly bounced around a few times. Riddick flung an arm back, impaling the man he almost hadn't heard sneaking up on him in the eye on the tip of his recovered weapon, and grinned at the woman. "Keep him there. Gonna finish this."

She nodded, lips compressed and eyes hard, and Riddick stepped over her, yanking a blade from his belt and throwing in the same motion. His target went down, gurgling as blood spurted from his throat.

::River,:: he barked in her head, and her head snapped around. She had three bodies at her feet and was in the process of disemboweling a forth. Her eyes were wild, and he could almost see steel in them. He grinned again, teeth bared and a low growl rumbling out of his chest, irritation and anger with her forgotten in the bloodlust he could feel rising inside of him. ::Ready to end this girl?::

His only reply came from the weapon as she oozed up against the man-animal merge that was starting to come together in their heads. Blades rose and fell like waves from her body as she set her back to his. In the physical she yanked her sword from the stomach of the man in front of her and took the single step needed to bring herself up next to him.

And then they danced.

It was shorter than the fight with the Reavers had been. There were far fewer attackers after all. And there was an added element that they hadn't had before. The bond melded them; moved them even. His ears and nose were crippled by the rain. Her mind tracked the locations of their enemies. Good only until the men panicked and gave up on their planned angle of attack, it still gave the pair enough of an edge to meet them as they came. A couple tried to stand off and bring their firearms into play, but Riddick was loaded down with enough blades that the loss of two or three as throwing knives wasn't enough to worry him. Inara and Mal were staying out of the way, having found cover behind one of the abandoned stalls, and he heard the occasional report of a shot as one or the other picked someone off who was just far enough from the main melee that there was no danger of hitting either of the two fighters in the middle.

By the time it was done they must have drawn every gang member in reach. The pile of bodies moaned and cried as a growing red stain oozed from beneath it and then washed away in the driving rain. Riddick came to a halt after delivering one last kick to a jaw that snapped the owner's head around at an extremely unnatural angle. River was facing him, sword in one hand and a blade almost as long as her forearm in the other. He was struck suddenly by a sense of familiarity, and he remembered standing on the bridge of a ship, Reavers in piles around them, planning to kill this girl.

Her laughter rang in his head and through the wet air as she caught the drift of his thoughts, which had absolutely nothing to do with killing her and everything to do with a good two or three dozen other things he'd rather do to her at the moment. Her eyes were wild, chest heaving as she panted for breath, and every inch of her clothing was plastered to her body by blood and rain. It left nothing to the imagination, not that he needed it, and the animal put for the opinion that this was somehow better than her naked. More tantalizing sure. The man made a mental note to manage to get her completely drenched somehow in the future, in a sometime when there wasn't so much of a risk of getting caught in a public place by who knew what sort of authority.

::Or maybe she will manage to get him soaked instead,:: her voice in his head was full of anticipation, and she shoved images his way of refilling the water tanks on the ship and _accidentally_ losing control of the water hoses. He approved, and stepped closer so he could catch the vanilla rising off her body before the rain could wash it away. A hand grabbed at his ankle just as he got within reaching distance and he growled and stomped on it, pulling the gun he hadn't touched once so far and sending a single bullet into the forehead of the man who had the temerity to still be alive. Stupid fuck. He had more important things on his mind. Like the soaking wet girl with the eyes of the weapon and the grin of the merc woman.

He was half an inch from her mouth, watching the rain run down her face and over her lips, smelling the haze of vanilla and apples around him, when a shout yanked his attention away. He snarled, glared in the direction of the noise, and found a very panicked, very angry Mal.

"Hey," the Captain yelled as he holstered his gun and helped Inara to her feet. "You two loons want ta come back to the 'Verse? Gotta get out of here!"

Riddick growled and contemplated pulling his last throwing knife so he could the annoyance right then and there. They'd fucking walked into a trap, and it was only his good fortune that the man hadn't been alone. Had he been, or even if he'd had Zoe or Jayne with him, he and his precious Companion wife would have never made it past the first wave. What the fuck sort of Captain was he anyways? River owed him a story and then some, but she'd be forgiven in the long run. Mal on the other hand, raised the bar on the incompetence level to heights he'd never known existed.

Light eyes under medium dark hair went wide, and Riddick realized he'd actually pulled the blade he'd been thinking of putting through the Captain's throat. Inara was fingering her gun, eyes just as huge as Mal's, but her lips were pressed into a thin line. Oddly enough, the great streaks of eyeliner making tracks down her face didn't make her seem helpless or afraid. He could see the woman under all that makeup. It wasn't steel at her core. It was willow. Strong, bending before the wind, but never breaking.

She thumbed the hammer, and he threw back his head and laughed. In his mind, the girl and the weapon relaxed, stepping away from the animal and the man as they came down from the bloodlust and high alert he'd been keeping his senses in. The animal pressed up against the leg of the girl, while the weapon dropped to sit between the knees of the man as he propped himself up against one of the huge spreading roots of the tree. Inara still had a tight grip on her gun, as did Mal, but neither had their fingers on the trigger.

He shook his head, looked down at River and grinned. "Another time then."

Tucking one straggled strand of hair behind her ear, he shoved the blade in his hand back into its place along his belt and turned away. The pile of bodies had mostly quieted down as the last of their attackers succumbed to blood loss and their other assorted injuries, and he picked his way clear with less care than he might have. Behind him River made her transition back to merc woman, and it didn't bother him so much this time as her mind hardened and flowed into a slightly different shape. She was still River under all that, and the merc woman was far closer to the weapon than any of the other personas he'd seen her channel.

"You coming Mal," he called over his shoulder as they cleared the last of the bodies. The Captain grumbled, but came. He could hear the stomp of the man's boots as they splashed through the puddles, and Inara was muttering about being soaked to the skin and how she longed for a bath. A real bath that she sit in up to the neck. He shook his head as the pair caught up, and River laughed in his head at the thoughts that drifted through. Annoying husband aside, ship falling to pieces and far too interested in the state of affairs between the Reader and the Furyan as she was; the woman was all kinds of interesting. There she stood, arm hooked through Mals, makeup all but gone, long dress clinging to her body and hindering movement, a pile of bodies that she had definitely contributed to, and her prime concern was getting clean. Woman after his own heart, except he had plans to drag River into the tub with him, and maybe not come out all night.

::Careful,:: the merc woman was grinning at him over her shoulder as she took up point and he placed himself at the rearguard. ::If you hadn't tacked on that last bit, I might almost think you had a wandering eye.::

The animal twitched its tail and flattened its ears as it mock growled at her. The man chuckled and went back to scanning their surroundings for possible threats. Eyebrows raised, Riddick leaned over so he could leer at her over Mal's shoulder. She just winked back before striding forward in a long, ground eating lope that forced the others to jog to keep up and made her hips swing in a way that both animal and man enjoyed very much. Bringing up the rear really wasn't so bad, and he could almost ignore the Captain's muttered complaints, muffled as they were by the rain, as they got clear of the carnage behind him. It had felt good, to be himself again, if only for a few minutes.

**Author's Note**: So a lot of this was actually meant to be in the last chapter when I planned them out. Jayne was going to be the one to tell Riddick to get his shit in line and let River be herself, but that ended up not happening and I needed to prove that Mal is Captain for a reason. Pain in the butt as he his, he does know his crew. I also wanted Mal to see River and Riddick fight side by side, instead of against each other. Whole different animal there, and it's important for what comes later. Besides, what's life on a planet that prides itself on cultivating its uber-Asian heritage without some sort of ninja attack huh?

They are, as always, not mine. Joss and Fox and Universal and Vin Diesel and the Wheat brothers and Tuohy can claim rights. Not me. Pooey

Shenandoah76209: Hehe. I figured that with all the time he'd put in learning the systems and the language, it was about time he got to actually put the skills to use. This story is full of characters going every which way. I'm just trying to keep them in character…sort of. Gah. Like a bunch of five year olds. As for Jayne, I'm not sure. I see hints of that too, but the problem I see is the intelligence. He's very survival smart, but not everything's wired up inside. I think Zoe would have to think long and hard about attaching herself to _anyone_ ever again, much less a guy who has trouble with math and reading beyond the elementary level. What do you think of Sihnon so far ? XD

Rachet: Thanks much! We're getting there, I promise! Some groundwork I need to lay first though!

Guineverekay: I'm still so tickled that you have an account. It makes me giggle. And yeah, Kaylee just doesn't have it in her to be much afraid of Riddick. And he doesn't have it in him to beat her down, all pregnant and weak and stuff (although that wrench argues to the contrary). We'll see why later.

Translations:

_fèi -_fee, cost, expenses, rate, toll, fermium

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Lilac: mischief

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Port control: the people telling you where to dock, etc

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	35. Chapter 35

Ch. 35

_I watched the proverbial sunrise_

_Coming up over the Pacific and_

_You might think I'm losing my mind,_

_But I will shy away from the specifics..._

_'Cause I don't want you to know where I am_

_'Cause then you'll see my heart_

_In the saddest state it's ever been._

"Who I am Hates Who I've Been" Relient K

Smooth silk rustled, having been embroidered in fanciful patterns and cut into exotic shapes before being stitched together into a new form. It wrapped. It curved. It covered. It clung and confined. River fingered the length of rich blue fabric and wondered if it would do the same to her mind that it did to her body. This whole place was stifling, from the drapes on the walls to the smell in the air. Even without his nose, she could tell. The scent of incense hung, never dissipating, kept inside by the screens that covered the ways outside. There were few windows. Instead the walls could move, grids of dark wood covered over with translucent white plastic to mimic the paper screens of old Japan. They were all closed now, keeping out the rain that the moderate winds would have driven into the interior of the guesthouse they'd been given for the night.

It was stifling. She wished she was back out in the wet. More importantly, she wished she was back out in the wet with Riddick. He'd had ideas she wished to implement, and they would have been much more entertaining than being swaddled up in silk and perfume and left with nothing to do. The blue cloth was mocking her, telling her that once she put it on, she'd quit being River. She didn't know how it could be. She'd worn clothing similar. She'd even passed herself of as a Companion in training. So why did this garment scare her so? Why did the fish embroidered along its length, leaping and cavorting among reeds and lily pads, seem to want to drag her under water?

She shuddered, dropped the dress, and reached blindly for the robe lying across the back of a chair. It was the simplest thing in the room, cream silk dotted with red poppies, and she wrapped herself in it like a cocoon around a caterpillar that refused to emerge and become a butterfly. The dress at her feet was reproachful, and she would have kicked it under the bed had the mattress not been sitting directly on the floor. She turned away instead, hunching her shoulders and wishing for the comfort of Serenity's deck beneath her feet instead of a carpet so thick and soft she lost her feet to the ankles in it. It crippled, it slowed. She couldn't dance on such a surface. She could hardly even take a step without feeling like she was wading through water. How had Inara survived such a place?

In her mind, the animal butted its head into her hip, knocking her off balance enough to see the man standing next to her. He was radiating amusement and irritation, and the combination was odd enough that she was distracted from the dress, from the room full of ylang ylang and sandalwood. She burrowed into the side of the man, digging her fingers into the fur along the jaguar's shoulders, and wished he was in the room with her so she could do so in the physical as well.

But he was off tormenting one of the servants, trying to get the point across that he needed oil, not perfume. He needed something plain, something that wasn't going to mess with his nose. Not that he could explain that part of things. She shoved a word his way, having plucked it from the Captain's mind at some point she knew not when. Maybe when she was still insane. Maybe it had trickled over in a dream. She could put the effort into remembering, but she was enjoying being wrapped up in his mind and didn't want to worry about it. The help earned her a brush of a metaphysical hand along a metaphysical jaw, and she smiled to herself as he finally got his point across to the terrified young woman before him. She stank of lemons and perfume, and he had no intention of staying in scenting distance of her any longer than he had to.

"_Mei mei_?" A soft voice jogged her out of her mental wanderings and back down the physical. River scowled at Inara, who was staring at her with worry in her eyes. She at least, had gotten dressed. Purple and gold wrapped around the woman's body; a simple, graceful dress that did nothing to hide exactly what she was. Inara was born to be a Companion, and would remain so until she died. Nothing she wore would hide the way she carried herself. Why couldn't she, why couldn't River, be so distinctive?

::This place is making you stupid,:: amusement and derision laced Riddick's voice in her head. ::There's only one of you. Can't hide what you are either.::

::And what's that,:: she whispered back, more than half her attention on him instead of Inara, who was looking more concerned by the second.

::Death's Dancer. The River. Take your fucking pick of analogies. You're you.:: He was going to come looking for her soon, and she almost told him where she was. But that would take the fun out of the hunt, and he should have to hunt for her. Besides, she could feel Captain Daddy searching for her, and his mind was a roil of frustration and irritation. The last thing she wanted today was to keep the peace between two temperamental and testosterone fueled men who couldn't decide if they were going to trust each other or not.

"River?" Inara had snuck up on her while she was otherwise occupied, and the girl jumped slightly, yanking her attention back to the present as she did so. Riddick grumbled, but let her be. The servant woman was on her way back with the saddle soap and neatsfoot oil anyways. And where had she dug that up? River decided she wasn't going to divulge that little secret. Who knew what ideas that would give him?

"Yes Inara," River spoke before the Companion could ask if she was alright. "The girl is…fine." It was only half a lie.

Inara wasn't fooled. She eyed the dress on the floor with a raised eyebrow, and then transferred the look to the girl in front of her. River wanted to cringe at the worry in the other woman's mind. Worry that River was going to have a fit, that there'd be yelling involved. Worry that the servants would take word up to the main Training House that there was something more than a little off about the escort she'd brought along. Mal they knew, he'd been here several times. Riddick on the other hand; he was scaring the maids just by standing in the hall. And River was firing off curiosity wherever she went. The fact that she and Riddick had locked themselves in one of the bathing rooms the minute they'd been shown where they were wasn't going to help in the long run. But they'd both wanted to be clean and really, who was going to tell them no? And get away with it that is. Besides, Inara and Mal had vanished just as quickly into their own bathing room.

"It is different," River said in answer to the unspoken question. Or accusation. She wasn't sure which to call it. "It feels wrong. The air is close, the smell worms it way up the nose. It creeps, it crawls." She shuddered and hugged herself tightly. "It wraps and squeezes. This is not the place for the girl. This is not where she belongs. Not in that," she toed at the dress by her feet. "Not as she is."

Inara's eyes were sympathetic, and her mind hid nothing. She might have had a bit of trouble translating, but she'd gotten the gist. Hiding a sigh behind her hand, she bent to pick up the dress and smoothed it down as she draped it over a chair. "Is it just the dress _mei mei_?"

River shook her head and perched on the edge of an overstuffed sofa. "The dress is the embodiment. It is the allegory. The casing on the wrongess. She is not meant for this place. Never was. Born to it, the plush and shine and gleam." Her eyes were glassing and she knew it, but she was reaching for the familiar sound of Mother's engines and coming up empty. Inara's mind was no help. She wasn't fully comfortable here, but she was far more at ease than the girl, or the Captain. Riddick snorted and yanked her away from the stream and closer to the tree, and the jaguar laid itself over her feet. She took a deep breath, anchored herself in his mind, and exhaled. "What would she have been, had she not gone to the Academy? Would this be her lot?"

Inara chuckled and came over to sit next to her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. "You never do the channeling when you come out as a Companion apprentice." It was both statement and question. A request for confirmation of a suspicion long held. Riddick could have told her the answer. She didn't. She put on the clothes, extensions of camouflage that worked the same way that Inara's did, hiding the truth of who and what they were to _Serenity_ behind the guise of society flowers. But she walked the same. Talked the way she might have if she'd made it to adulthood without going to the Academy, and to the non-Companion eye, she was what her garments proclaimed her to be.

This, the wearing of the guise while in environs that molded the mind to their flow, this was not a possibility. It was not a could-have-been future for her. There was nothing in her make up that allowed for the selling of self for the pleasure of others, even if pleasure was gained alongside them. The river flowed; it cut its path through life, and did not bend for the dams and dykes that tried to guide it. She could follow a different channel if she wished, tapping and listening, allowing it to guide her steps and words, but she could not be turned from the downward plane which drew her forward.

"River!" Inara's voice was soft, and the hand over her mouth was gentle. The girl realized she'd been vocalizing her thoughts, and gulped down the next words before they could burble forth. There was hurt in the woman's voice. And understanding. She hadn't chosen her life, but she had been born for it; and she was very, very good at what she'd done. Until a hardnosed Captain had gone and yanked on every one of her heartstrings, pulling until neither he nor she knew which step to take next in the dance they did around each other. River clawed her way back out of Inara's mind, past the well at her center and into Riddick's. The Companion was making no effort to hide those thoughts, but River had no desire to make them a part of her.

Riddick gave a mental grunt and snorted in amusement as she scrambled up the tree to nestle against the jaguar. The man below was working a leather harness over, cleaning and rubbing oil into it just as the Riddick was doing in the physical. He'd decided to make her come looking for her instead, and was shuttering away all clues as to his actual position in the building. She dropped a twig on his head and promised she'd figure it out. All she had to do was follow the frightened and awed mutters of the servants. He lifted a lip in a perfunctionary snarl, but otherwise ignored her.

Someone was shaking her gently by the shoulders, and she pulled her eyes back into focus so she could meet the angry gaze of her Captain and adoptive father. His mind, an irritated and angry buzz since they'd arrived, was a full-fledged bee swarm now. She shrank away from it, deeper into the curl of Inara's arm around her. Hunching her shoulders and setting her jaw, she fought down a very Riddick-like growl as she glared upwards at those hard blue eyes. "No," she gritted out between clenched teeth.

"_Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze _," Mal grumbled and stood upright. "Why the hell not?"

There was one good thing about not being able to stay out of people's heads. When they knew about it, whole sections of unnecessary conversation could be cut completely and the meat of the issue gotten to with startling swiftness. Too bad it didn't work in reverse. A dark chuckle in the back of her mind made the girl twitch; and she aimed a swat at the man sitting next to the well and watching her with amusement. In front of her, Mal mirrored the twitch.

"Captain Daddy will rage," River muttered and crossed her arms. "Will refuse to go."

"So you're blackmailing me," he squawked.

Inara tried to hush him, but it only worked halfway. River could hear the minds of the servants in the corridors stop and try to make out the words. She knew what they were. Spies. Everyone was. Another dark chuckle in her head and she groaned.

"Told you already, do not have to come. The girl and the Riddick will do this on their own if need be." River stood so she could be closer to an even footing with her Captain. His mind was screaming its resistance to the idea, and she wavered slightly as the assault battered at her defenses. She could feel panic rising, the knowledge that unless certain steps were taken, he _would_ leave them. Everything in her screamed at the idea, the foreknowledge that if she let him go off into space alone, in a nearly broken ship with no clear purpose, the Blue Hands would find him. And on not finding the girl with him-She shied away from that memory of things that had not yet come to pass. The river was rushing now, thunder of the falls approaching, and she fought against the current and back into the physical plane as best she could.

Daddy either didn't notice her wanderings or had chosen to ignore them. His mind was wrapped up in the possible ways this could go wrong and visions of the pile of bodies she and Riddick had left down in the market place at the foot of the Companions' Hill. He worried, pulled and teased at the memory. He was trying to put his daughter, who he knew could fight, in the place of the young woman who'd moved so seamlessly with the big murderer.

Of course it was only now that he truly realized the import of the first two introductory titles that Riddick had used in reference to himself. He'd thought of him in terms of Jayne, willing to kill but usually only for money. This man, this whatever-he-was that he'd brought on board; he reveled in death. He'd seen it in the war, and in people since. He knew the look of someone who killed as easily as they breathed. There'd been no hesitation in his actions, no pause. Attackers had fallen as quickly as they appeared.

It was a thing he could, he would, eventually wrap his mind around. What he couldn't comprehend fully, what he was resisting with everything in him, was the knowledge that River could be the same as the man. It washed over her, the confusion and turmoil, like fast water over smooth river rock. She clung, reaching for the sights and sounds and scents of the room, searching for a tree root; anything to anchor her before the current could take her away. Riddick was looking for her, but the white froth of the waters around her were hiding her from view, and he didn't have near the experience in these sorts of waters as she did. He could pull her out if he could get to her, but that was proving problematic.

"We could have died down there," Mal grated out, and anger joined the confusion. Worry for her. Worry for Inara. Worry that she was leading him into something far worse than Miranda and Mr. Universe's moon. She could have told him that. She'd been trying to tell him that. But to leave Kyra where she was, that would bring about something beyond what they'd been through so far. Even worse than the Battle of Serenity had been. She could feel it down to her bones, and she didn't need to swim the currents of memories not yet made to know it either. One plus one equaled two. Blue Sun with the secret of the Necromongers in their hands equaled devastation at an exponential rate of growth. And only Riddick believed her.

"Are you even listening to me?" Hard hands took her by the shoulders, and the voice roaring in her ears didn't match the roaring in her mind as her head lolled on her shoulders. She didn't know which way to go any more. Towards the man and animal or towards her Captain and father. She wished for neither. She wished for the river to take her, take her far away from the coming confrontation and anger.

Inara was there now, worry and fear washing through her mind as she tried to separate her husband's hands from the Reader's shoulders.

The girl cried out, an entirely involuntary noise born of desperation and fear, and tore herself from her father's grip. Riddick called to her in her mind, voice dim through the rush of water. Her ears told her he was looking for her in the physical as well. But he was in the wrong part of the house, and it had been built more as a maze than a place of comfort, to keep different sets of guests in their own quarters.

"Have to trust her," she managed to gasp, as silk clad arms wrapped around her shoulders to steady her. She couldn't keep her head still, couldn't keep her eyes fixed. She was too busy watching flashes of knowledge off the backs of fish. They swirled and ran in schools, slipping past her and down the falls below. "Please Daddy," she was reaching blindly, and calloused hands caught hers. They were too small to be truly helpful, but they were an anchor nonetheless. "Have to believe the girl knows what she's doing. Tomorrow," she croaked and coughed before continuing. Riddick was getting closer, but he couldn't find her scent in all the old incense and fresh perfume of the place. "Tomorrow all will be clear. Let the girl have this night. Let her be a daughter one more night before you throw her off the ship. Please Daddy!"

Needles and restraints floated around her, dumped into the current by Mal's mind as he tried to untwist her words. Inara was wishing for Simon. For Riddick. For anyone who could keep her under control. Didn't they know she wasn't to be controlled? Didn't they know she was herself? A girl. A Reader? A weapon? Sudden anger surged through her, and she growled as she caught thoughts of sleeping pills and dragging her back to the ship. Did they think they could hide them from her? She flowed with the River. She _was_ the River.

Bladed hands sank into the rocks she'd been clinging to. Water flowed around a suddenly seamless body, and the weapon hauled herself up onto the boulder. She hissed and spat and Mal yelled as she yanked on his hands and dropped, bulling her way forward and tossing him over her shoulder. Inara went down under him, and the weapon-girl snatched the gun from her father's belt before he could gather himself enough to grab for it. She tossed it aside, stepped forward, and placed her heel in his ribs. "Listen," she snarled. Riddick was getting closer. He'd caught her scent now, and could hear the sounds of the scuffle. She ignored him. "Go back to _Serenity_. Leave the girl and Furyan. Hide in your hole," she spat the last and blocked the wild swing her Captain made as he struggled to his feet. "Do what you want." A fist in the ribs, a turn, and she'd brought her elbow into contact with the base of his skull, just behind the ear. Mal dropped like a stone and she turned on Inara, who'd gotten the gun from where it had fallen and held it before her, pointed at the ground, but the safety off.

"River," the Companion said quietly. "River _please_."

The girl growled and stepped forward.

And Riddick found her.

Choking and gasping, the girl coughed up river water by the lungful as the man and animal worked to drag her ashore. Hard arms wrapped around her, pinning her hands in long fingers and pulling in opposite directions. One was yanked up behind her back, another across her chest and over her shoulder. She spun with the motion, like a ballroom dancer in a turn, and head-butted Riddick just as he was leaning down to growl at her. His head was harder. Made of stone maybe. She saw stars and her ears rang. He'd read the intent and added force to his own motion. Had she cracked her skull open?

She hung there, arms outstretched where he held them, and tried to find her footing. It gave the girl enough time to disengage from the weapon and scramble for the safety of Riddick's mind and the tree. The animal met her at the barrier, and she clung to it for support as she stumbled into the shade. Behind her Captain Daddy was climbing to his feet again, practically a small sun of anger and confusion. Inara had put her gun away, thinking Riddick would keep the girl from killing them all in a fit of insanity. She might even be right. The animal was helping her up the tree, but the man was blocking her, and all she was getting from him was a cold fury, like the star of his irritation had collapsed and compressed all its matter into a tiny blaze of raging heat. She whimpered and swayed as it buffeted at her, and he relented just slightly. But only just.

Her hands hurt from having been squeezed so hard, but at least she could still feel her fingers. He rumbled deep in his chest as he lowered her arms and turned her back around. He had her wrapped up again, same way he'd grabbed her, but without the excessive force. The Captain and Inara couldn't feel his fury, not the full force of it. What they could feel they thought was directed their way, and the girl nearly snorted the thought. They were relieved the girl was back under control, scared that she might lose it again, and desperately wishing that Riddick had never set foot on their ship. If only they could have gotten the girl back without him. If only they'd gotten the girl back the way she'd been before she was taken.

This new creature, they didn't know what to do with her.

Riddick had to support her, seeing as her knees were turning to water and the urge to cry was starting to become overwhelming. They didn't see her. Never had. Oh they'd caught glimpses here and there, and the Captain had been the first to call her weapon what it was. But she'd been so careful, these past years. So careful. To be only as dangerous as they needed her to be on any given job. Diligent in her meditations. In taking the hormones Simon had worked out that she was most in need of. Always careful before a job. Always careful after. Did they think she sat on the bridge and worked the Cortex all night, when she couldn't sleep and took the graveyard shift?

Riddick's arms tightened around her as he caught the drift of her thoughts, and a little of the man's anger dissipated. Or was walled off further. She really couldn't tell, and she was afraid to go poking. Mal was grumbling something about hair trigger tempers and all he'd wanted was an answer. Was it so much to ask, to know what he was walking into? River wasn't sure if he'd said it out loud or in his mind. The stream still rushed in her ears, even though she was up in a tree and away from its waters.

It must have been out loud, because Riddick was replying. "Said you'd trust her Mal." She thought he was hiding the rage in his voice rather well, all things considered. "Decide to follow through, we'll see you in the morn'n. Otherwise," her arms moved with his as he shrugged and then loosened his grip. "Make sure you get that ship repaired before you break atmo." He rumbled out a chuckle and she let the sound wash through her like a bore tide. "Be a shame to come all this way only to crash."

And then he turned her, arm over her shoulders like he was calm as could be, and walked her out the door. Behind her, Inara was sending frantic prayers to any deity that would listen as she tried to keep her husband from following. The Captain was still a giant ball of tangled emotion, but if he'd learned one thing over the years, he knew that chasing his Reader down and trying to force an answer out of her was like catching the wind. That he'd even made an attempt tonight spoke of how unsettled and off balance he was. The girl prayed he would remember the lesson later, because she had a feeling the next time she lost herself in the current, Riddick might not be around to stop her.

Something told her that he'd be just as lost.

~HHYFN~

The room was lush. Thick carpet over dark wood floors. A four posted bed with gauze drapes sat equidistant from all but one of the walls. A mirror in a corner, oblong and big enough even for Riddick to see himself entire. An ebony chest of drawers, sleek and beautiful. The colors were red and black and gold, and the animal was letting her know that even he could see them, saturated and rich as they were. He was also letting her know that many, many other people had stayed her prior to their arrival, and the room was permeated with the smell of old sex, layered over with incense and cleaning products. Companions didn't entertain in the Training House, but not every client wanted it advertised as to who they spent their time with. Nor did all Companions have the same driving need to see the 'Verse that one Inara Sera had. Some lived as cloistered as nuns of old, and seeing as the guest houses were outside the gates of the compound proper, tradition could be maintained on all sides.

River read it all in the ghosts of the room as Riddick passed through the door, by the bed, and over to one of the sliding screens that made up the far wall. He'd turned the lights down to the dimmest setting sometime before he'd come looking for her, and dropped his goggles on the chest of drawers as he stalked by. The animal had taken up residence with her in the tree again, its unconcern completely at odds with the rage of the man. She could feel it building, like an avalanche waiting to be triggered, and her mind shuddered away from what she knew was coming. She refused to accept blame though. Refused. Because if she did, then she'd be admitting just how deep her fear went, and just how brittle she really was.

The screens slid open onto a wide veranda, and rain rushed from the eaves beyond a second set of screens. A bowl of water, a rag, and the ulak harness were lying beside the door. A couple of tins of saddle soap and a bottle of neatsfoot nearby gave her the source of the tang in the air. She nearly tripped over the whetstone as he drug her out the gap in the inner walls and onto the smooth wood of the porch. He was rumbling, deep and dark, and she could feel his mind closing her out.

She whimpered, a small noise in her throat, and something in him snapped.

She could feel blood on her tongue and running down her throat as her teeth clamped on her lip to keep from crying out when he spun her and slammed her up against one of the pillars supporting the eaves. He was growling out loud now, and the man in her mind was trying to drag the girl down where he could catch her among the tree roots. She inched further up the main trunk, and the animal watched the line of her leg as it disappeared into the leaves. Her hands were up over her head, pinned by his long fingers as they wrapped around her wrists, and she didn't try to fight. She'd had enough fighting for one night. She just wanted this over with. Just wanted sleep. So she could wake and walk back to the man who'd made her relive all her nightmares and beg for his help again. On her knees if need be.

"Gotta say River," his voice was rough and velvety in her ear as his lips brushed across her skin. "You can't do subtle for shit."

She didn't reply, just glared up into those silvery eyes as they bored into hers. He was holding himself away from her, but she could feel the heat radiating from his body. He leaned over, just his torso and head coming her way, and nipped at her earlobe before growling at her again. Whatever else he was doing to try and lull her into a false sense of security, it wasn't working. The man was blocking her out, and the animal was just miffed enough at them both that it was refusing to help one way or another.

"So," he rumbled finally. "Tell me a story River." Another nip, and she couldn't help the goose bumps that broke out over her skin as she shivered under his touch. "Better yet," his voice hardened and he pulled away so he could glare down at her again. "Show me."

She might have been able to stop the whimper, had she known it was coming. As it was, she was surprised, although his eyes narrowed the sound. She opened her mouth, couldn't make her throat work, snapped her jaw shut, and whimpered again as her hands tried to come down from the pillar. She wanted to hunch in, curl up and forget the world existed. She should have held on to the merc persona a little longer. A perfect blend of her weapon and sass, it made a very good shield. A shield she'd been clinging to just as hard as she clung to the tree branches that sheltered her.

Every step on this planet, every foot she placed in front of the last was like a shockwave up her body. Small at first, she'd hardly noticed it until they'd arrived and the servants began their bustle. A bath. Dry clothes. The House Priestess coming down to commiserate with Inara over food and complain about the reduced Fed presence throughout the city. Captain Daddy's growing irritation and anger at the whole thing. His ever growing fixation with getting out of there and back to _Serenity. _And the knowledge that he'd agreed to go with his adoptive daughter to find a man he knew nothing about on the off chance that he could help them find the body of a girl he _definitely_ didn't know from Adam. Or Eve.

Small wonder she'd lost it. Small wonder it had all become too much and she'd lost herself in the rapids. And now Riddick wanted explanations. The niggling curiosity had grown into irritation, and then blossomed into rage as she tried to dodge Mal and ran her fears right into his mind. He wanted to know where she was taking them. She could get that much from him. They _had_ nearly died that day, and he would have been the first. Crippled by the rain, she'd nearly lost him because he was following her blindly he knew not where. And the man had had enough. She could feel it, the frustration and anger at not knowing what was going on. At not being top dog and having to put his faith in someone who clearly did not trust him enough in return to tell him what the _fucking hell _was coming.

She shuddered as he let the anger out; let the thoughts pour over her. They hissed and steamed along the edges of her consciousness, and she moaned under the onslaught and tried to curl in on herself again. She was weeping; fear and horror and despair all mixing together till she didn't know where one started and another stopped. He let go of her hands, letting her collapse before shoving open one of the screens, dropping himself to the edge of the veranda in the gap he'd made, and dragging her into his lap. She let him, still trying to shield her thoughts and memories from him as warm arms enveloped her and he poked and prodded at the flashes of knowledge that were drifting to the surface of her mind. He was getting disturbingly good at this, and she tightened her walls almost on principle. She was going to lose this fight, but it was a fight worth having, if only to create a _chance_ that he wouldn't make her do what he was about to make her do.

::River,:: his voice in her mind was gentle, soft even. It was almost her undoing. ::Don't give a fuck about the rest of your crew.:: He was digging through her hair to find her scalp, and she let herself get lost in the feeling of his fingers as they rubbed at her head. He was a dirty trickster was what he was. A laugh stayed buried in his chest as he caught the thought, and he pulled her head back so she had to look him in the eyes. His face was hard, all at odds with what his hands and voice were doing to her, and she could see true anger still smoldering in those eyes.

::Gonna let me walk in blind,:: he asked finally, just as her neck was starting to cramp. ::Really getting tired of this. Might actually get us killed, you keep this up.::

She twitched, jaw clenching and feet kicking out as she fought to keep the memories behind walls and away from him. She didn't want him to see. Didn't want him to know. He saw her as she was after and accepted her for it. He'd given her certainty without knowing what she'd been. Would he take it back if he knew? If he saw what she'd-No. Couldn't go there. Couldn't let it come to the surface!

She retched, sobbing and shaking as he tipped her over the edge of the porch and let her bring up everything she'd eaten in the past six hours.

His mind was a blank to her, face just as impassive, and he'd walled his own thoughts away as well. A taste of her own medicine, she knew. Nothing would ever be simple for them. Nothing would ever be easy. If she let him see though, she might make things very easy. All he would need to do once he found out would be to get up, drop her, and walk away. He'd nearly done it on the _Hound_, when his decision had been all but cast in stone. She knew she wouldn't make it far without being tied into his mind anymore, but what about him? He was the tree, the animal, the strength. What was she to him anyways?

He must have read something of what she was thinking on her face. She was fairly sure he hadn't caught the thoughts. She was sealing them up tight, and then resealing. And sealing again. His eyes blazed, and the man was suddenly there, pounding on the barrier she'd thrown up between them. "Not on your life girl," he snarled as he pulled her closer. "You think you're gonna run me off? _You _shoulda run. Ages ago. That second day." Her ribs were creaking, she squeaked in protest. He didn't let up. "Fuck girl, seen the worst of me. Seen everything I've ever done. What do you have that can top that?"

"Weakness," she croaked feeling bile rise again. "So brittle," she whispered. "So weak. So close to the surface. Shouldn't-" she retched again, the fear was twisting her gut so bad that her entire body was rebelling. He let her bring up the last of her stomach contents, and then she was choking on nothing and couldn't stop. The animal was growing worried; and the man had gone from trying to get her down out of the tree to rage at her to trying to climb up and comfort her.

But she just kept going, creeping further and further away from him. She couldn't let him see. She couldn't let him know. She'd told him the state she'd been in when she arrived on _Serenity,_ but any images she'd given him had been carefully edited. As they should be. And she'd skimmed over her post-Miranda recovery entirely. If he saw those. If he knew. She shuddered away from her own mind and reached for the well at its center. Better to hide herself down there, beyond his reach.

He caught her as she slipped over the edge, animal sinking teeth into her ankle as the man caught her fingers and hauled. It wasn't gentle, and it wasn't easy. She fought, screaming in her head as he drug her back to full sanity and the present. His fear washed over her, nearly drowning her before he wrapped himself around her and set his body between her and the tide. She shook with the force of their combined emotions, nearly biting through her tongue as her jaw clenched and her spine tried to snap itself backwards. He held her in arms of iron, rumbling out a growl against her throat as he pinioned her flailing feet with his legs. The waters were closing over her head again, and she could feel a keening shriek build inside her, if only she could draw breath to get it out.

::Will you fucking _listen_ to me girl,:: he roared in her head, and the voice was that of the animal from the man's throat. Teeth closed over her jugular, closing off her air and forcing her body to still. She shuddered one last time and the keen died in her chest. He let go, pressing his nose to the place he'd bitten, and in her head he hauled her a little further away from the well and back towards the tree. Panting, feeling hot tears wash down her cheeks and leave fiery tracks behind, she stared up into those starlit eyes. Rage still blazed there; rage at the fact that she didn't trust him enough to confide in him. Fury, knowing that such things had happened to her that this was the result, even years later.

But the fear was greater. Fear that he'd lost her. Fear that she'd kill herself rather than show him what sparked such terror in her.

And then conviction.

He snarled, more animal than man at the moment, and when he opened his mouth to speak nothing came out but a hoarse croak of his own. Pulling her tighter, he reached down and yanked the tie from the robe she wore, letting it flop open and bundling the cream and red patterned silk into a ball before reaching out and letting it soak in the rain streaming off the edge of the eaves. She stare, awed at the contradiction between confident action and the gut wrenching horror she was feeling.

::You've seen me,:: he said finally, as he wiped at the mess off her face with the damp bit of cloth. His voice in her mind wasn't much better than it was in the physical, but this had words at least. He was peeling her away, layer by layer, down to the core, and she caught a glimpse of something shining and hard before he distracted her again. ::Gave it all to you. Every bit.:: Reproach, gentle but inevitable, and she cringed away from it. He pulled her back, set the cloth aside, and tucked her head under his chin.

Images washed over her. Memories. He used the line about peppermint schnapps to scare people now, but there had been a time when he'd actually done it. Tortured, skinned, flayed a man who would have gotten him killed for sheer stupidity. Made an example of him to other who might think that just because he was ten years younger than the average Company soldier, he was an easy mark. There'd been a time when a ship landed, when he was still unused to cryo, and it was the animal in control. Three hundred mercs had died before he'd gotten himself reined in and managed to call a halt to the hunt. He'd been insane. He'd lost himself and clawed his way back. He'd done unspeakable things to people whose only crime had been to cross paths with him. He'd done worse to those who deserved a slow and painful death. And she'd seen it all. He'd given it to her the second day aboard the Destroyer.

::Told you girl,:: his breath was warm in her ear as he stuck his nose into it. ::Seen the worse of me. Think I can't handle the worst of you?::

She sobbed then, huge gulping gasps for air between low wails that she tried to bury in his chest. He was right, damn him. She had seen it all. It may have frightened her at one point, before she'd seen some of the worst evils people could visit on each other. If she hadn't known about Reavers. If she hadn't known their secret. But she'd also seen the man, strong and concrete through it all. There had been something, even back to his childhood, that called to her. A certainty of purpose, a knowledge that he'd come out on top no matter what. That when he finally found a thing worth fighting for, he'd walk through hell itself to protect it.

And he had. He'd gone back to the cave where Jack and Imam had waited. He'd gone into Crematoria for Jack, to try and save her again. On failing that; he had set himself the task of at least finding her a place to rest in peace, even if it meant tying himself to the Necros and travelling the galaxy forever. Instead he'd found a crazy girl in a box. And he saw something in the girl, something he couldn't describe. But whatever it was, it had answered that call in him for an equal, a person who could see him as he was and keep up. .

And now, for the sake of both the dead and the living, he was willing to follow the lunatic girl into who knew what sort of impossible fight. First though, first he had to fight _her_. Fight the girl herself as she refused to believe that he'd accept her for all of her and everything thing she'd been. But his will was implacable. The exact thing she'd seen as key to his survival was about to be her undoing.

She could see what he was uncovering now. The foundations they'd poured together. Mottled and spotted like the jaguar's coat, the patina on it shimmered. But it was solid steel, and had run into every crack of her being. She'd never be rid of him, and he had no intention of ever leaving her alone again. Not like she'd been before.

Even without knowing exactly what had happened, even without carrying her memories as she carried his, he'd made his choice. He'd quit speaking, either in his mind or with his voice, but he threw the challenge at her. He could live with her knowing what he was. Could she be capable of less?

It was a weak gauntlet to throw down, all things considered. He wasn't going anywhere, and had already named her as his match. What was he going to do if she didn't answer? The laugh died in her mind as the weapon shoved the answer her way. It was almost worse than the stomach churning terror of a few minutes past.

He'd accept it, but they'd be forever unbalanced. Forever out of kilter. She wouldn't be living up to the title of Match, to the place by his side. He wouldn't leave her, but in a way she would be leaving him. He rumbled under her as her mind temporarily froze, and the animal bumped its head up under her hand as she swayed and tried to catch her balance. Pride, arrogance, personal fears aside, how could she say no? How could she be so dishonest?

His hands in her hair were gentle, and he helped her move around to sit facing him in his lap without needing her to ask. Her open robe was doing nothing to guard her from the chill of the air as night fell beyond the veranda, and he pulled her closer to share his warmth with her. She clutched at his shirt with trembling fingers as he tucked her head back under his chin and apples, steel, charcoal and bitter herbs swam in her nose as the awareness of them passed from his mind and into hers. She breathed deep, sticking her nose into the hollow just beneath his Adam's apple, and got the spices, faint musk, saddle soap, and wet leather that ran dominant in his scent. One more shuddering breath; and she counted to ten as she let it out.

And then she opened up her mind to him, fully and completely, as she pushed all her memories of self in his direction.

**Author's Note: ** Holy shit, I think I broke them…

That was the first thought out of my head when I finished this chapter. And for a good five or six chapters thereafter. It wasn't supposed to be this way. The Training House was going to be a bit of mindless fluff, maybe serious conversation between Riddick and Inara, and River was finally going to get hold of that corset. Instead, I couldn't write it. Nothing came out, nothing fit together. Poof. Fluffl gone. In its place grew a dress, and then River lost her marbles and Riddick picked that moment to let all his frustration at being fed bits of information like a baby and decided to take it out on River. Hence: Holy shit I think I broke them… Gah!

A couple of notes: Neatsfoot oil has long been used to help clean and condition and generally take care of leather. Somehow or another they get it from the feet and shin bones of cattle. Don't ask me. But I miss the smell of saddle soap and oil and taking care of leather.

Also, bore tides. Plain and simple: an abrupt rise of tidal water moving rapidly inland from the mouth of an estuary. Also called tidal bore. It's not always estuaries per se. Where I grew up in Alaska there was an inlet that had some of the most drastic changes in tide in the world. When it was out, the sandbanks stuck out and people could walk on the mudflats if they were careful. When it was in, it was deep and NOT SAFE. In between the tide comes in like a wave. Not a slow rise. People surf the bore tide sometimes. It mows over anything in its way and if people are on the mudflats at the wrong time they can sink and die pretty quick. So. Fear. Bore tide. Yeah.

Rachet: Yeah, I like that phrase. Glad you do too! Glad you don't mind the groundwork. Kinda need it to keep the more action bits working.

Shenandoah76209: Ya know, you're right. I love some of the stories set in Victorian London. They're fun! I don't know how soon I'll be able to let the rest of the crew see the team fighting side of this pair. Not cooperating much. Besides, Mal was the one who really needed to see it. See what he'd gotten into.

Guineverekay: Hahah. Poor Mal. The man's so in for it and he doesn't even realize it. Unfortunately, change comes slow to this man. Poor guy. I'm not done torturing him yet. As for the Guild, remember when Jayne mentioned the Feds are pulling out of the Core planets and focusing on the Border and Rim and the threats there? I imagine that creates a bit of an issue with law enforcement all around. And House Madrassa, to my mind, was there long before the gangs decided to set up shop. They're kind of stuck with them in the market, but I'd say it's less dangerous for one of the Companions living there, or the customers. They'd have guards. Be known. Could call in authorities if things got really out of hand. It's the people who don't look like they have the money to be in that part of town, the easy marks, or Companions from outside the House that would have more trouble. In my mind at least.

Translations:

_mei mei_: sister

_Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze _Son of a drooling whore and a monkey.

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Lilac: mischief


	36. Chapter 36

Ch. 36

_Then I hurt myself to see it too,_

_To feel the knife I put in you_

_My heart as broken as my ways_

_I never should've let it pass,_

_This fall was never meant to last_

_The reason gone and damage stays_

"One Thousand Apologies" Demon Hunter

Some sort of bird was calling out in the trees. He could hear leaves rustling, and the pounding of the rain on the roof had finally stopped. The air was still muggy though, and he was glad that he hadn't wrapped them up in sheet, or drawn the curtains around them. Somehow he'd managed to get them both to bed the night before, although he was still unclear as to what had given him the strength. River had slipped off sometime while he was still absorbing the memories she'd given him. He could remember the smell of her tears, her anguish, and her terror. It burned him now just as badly as it had then. But as much as he hated himself for having put her through that, for talking her into showing him all of her, he couldn't bring himself to say he wouldn't do it again.

Everything. Childhood on. He could see why she and Simon had latched onto each other so tightly. He even saw why her brother was so resistant to the idea of letting her go. Loving parents yes, but when push came to shove more concerned with their social standing than they were with the children they'd raised. And then needles. Restraints. Drugs and questions. He'd felt it as she had felt it, and even now the animal was keeping it all for him, compartmentalized the way it kept the knowledge of his own days of innocence. Not that he'd had much. The veil had been ripped from them both while still fairly young. All the way through, she'd given it to him. He was missing chunks here and there, bits that trailed off into Zoe, Mal; or any one of the dozens of people she'd gotten to know along the way before the images came to an abrupt end. He guessed that most of the missing bits were actually other people's memories, and really couldn't bring himself to be irritated by the omissions.

Others were just gone, blank spaces full of screaming and terror. Blackouts? He wondered about them. Things she didn't even know she knew? The secret of the Reavers had crawled out of one of those dark spaces of time, sending tendrils of terror through the mind as it wormed its way ever closer to the surface. Did she carry anything else she didn't know? Or had it all gotten worked out of her system when she'd holed up in Mik-lat and the Operative had put her through torture after torture in his efforts to help her find her way back to sanity? No matter that she'd asked for it. No matter that she'd found him and begged for help, mind crumbling around the edges. She'd been right.

He wanted to kill the man.

That was what she'd been hiding. That was what she'd been so scared of him knowing. She had come out on the other side, as whole and sane as she might ever be. But she hadn't skimped when she finally let him know. When she dumped the memories into his head, those in particular had lit up like the last flare of a sun before the eclipse. Whether she'd done it on purpose or not, they'd hit him with all the strength of a bomb blast to the face. Not that it helped.

There was very little chronology to them, at least to start with. It got worse before it got better, flashes of a padded room, screaming nightmares, a man pleading with her as she thrashed and fought. Men dying. The coat with long sleeves and buckles that she'd allowed herself to be wrapped in to prevent any more of the people trying to help her from ending up as cooling piles of flesh and bone. She'd rammed it all home, like she was daring him to take it and see the worst of her. All her weaknesses condensed into a few months, and then further into the few moments it had taken to transmit it all to his animal.

Stupid little witch thought he'd run did she? Thought she'd convince him that she wasn't really the one to meet and match him? She'd dangled the threat of her continued insanity in front of him, the likelihood that she'd be having fits of lunacy till her dying day. He'd have to wait for her to wake up to prove to her just how wrong she was. Given how deep she was breathing, that wouldn't be for a while yet. It was probably just as well. He could still feel her emotions twisting their way through his gut. He wanted a bit of time to sort out what was his and what was hers. And to figure out how to make sure that she'd never, ever have to go through anything like that ever again.

Slipping out from underneath her warmth, sprawled as she was across him, he rose from the bed and paced through the dim light of the room to the sliding doors that made up the wall. He snagged his goggles from the dresser as he passed. Slipping them on over his head, he hooked his fingers into the gap he'd left in the door and pulled. The bowl and leather cleaning gear lay where he'd left them when he'd gone hunting for her last night, and the harness sat like an accusation. He'd have to put a lot of work into it to get it supple again, and the blades needed to be checked to be sure the water hadn't started to damage them either. Fucking rainforests.

"It is the environment you were born to. Rain and dim light. Why do you think she calls you jaguar?"

His head shot up, and he nearly dropped the cloth and the harness he'd been rubbing oil into. How the fuck? When had he picked them up? Better yet, where the fuck had that voice come from? He knew it. Knew it like he knew his own, for all he'd had far fewer occasions to hear it.

Yanking aside the screen separating the veranda from the outside world, he stared in shock. It was still a jungle, still dripping water and reeking of rotting vegetation. But it also reeked of decaying bodies; and there were headstones scattered among the trees. The slope dropped away, revealing a valley of burned husks, of more tombstones. It was the valley of his nightmares.

And there, standing in the open place between the porch and the trees, was Shirah.

He had never figured out how he knew her name. Maybe she'd dropped it into his head. Maybe he'd found it in some of the Necro histories. They'd stolen much from the worlds they destroyed, the better to showcase their victories later. Here a significant bit of tech. There a remarkable cornerstone off a public bath house. But from Furya had come intricate blades and a series of wall paintings ripped entire from their buildings. On each had been a woman, feathers in her hair and sword at her waist. There wasn't any information on her, and when he'd found the relics in a storage vault on the Basillica, he'd nearly tossed them straight off the ship and into space.

Snarling, he yanked a blade from his belt and glared at the woman. What the fuck did she want this time?  
She laughed, low and rich; and the sound of it crawled down his skin like a slow avalanche, burying his consciousness in her mockery. He couldn't move, couldn't lift his hand and throw the blade. She'd immobilized him. And she was coming closer, step after careful step. She rested a hand on a gravestone here and there as she passed, and he realized he could see names on them. Imam. Caroline. Jack's had a carving of a woman in fluttering robes at its peak. Next to it was one where the name was so worn it was nearly illegible. He knew it though. He'd always know it. No matter what he willfully forgot, he'd know that name. Above the name was a flower, sharp and clear. Funnel shaped with a long stem, he'd never known what it was called. Boys raised in penal system homes and brought to manhood hunting monsters in mines didn't get much chance to learn anything about flowers.

"Calla lily," the bitch said, crouching to run a finger over the carving. Riddick shot backward, anger and agony burning through whatever had been holding him still. He ended up halfway down the veranda, ulak in either hand and cursing in the animal's voice as he waiting for the nightmare woman to step up through the gap in the screen.

She appeared next to him instead, hands folded behind her back at parade rest as she stared down at him with cool eyes. He growled and swung, and she stepped back out of range as if she'd never moved. Roaring, he lashed out again. She caught his blade on her sword this time, hooking it through the curve of his weapon and twisting as she moved around and behind him. The ulak flew out and up, imbedding itself in the ceiling. A swat across his shoulder blades with the flat of her sword, and Shirah came back around to lay the edge along his neck. It burned, like someone was pouring acid across his throat, and he snarled at the pain of it. But he was immobilized again, and try as he might he couldn't get free.

"Fucking cunt," he ground out.

"You've crossed a line now." She was ignoring his struggle completely, and her eyes were cool. "See her in her entirety. As she saw you. What will you do with that?" She bent to run a finger down his jaw, and inside his animal roared a protest. She laid a palm to his forehead and her eyes flashed. The animal quieted, still angry, but she'd taken its voice somehow. It pissed the man off even further. There was only _one_ woman he'd allow to pull the teeth on his rage. Only one woman who should be able to calm him. And it was not Shirah.

Just like that the animal came to life again, and he bulled forward, driving a shoulder into the living legend's gut and ramming her into one of the pillars supporting the eaves. She rebounded as he backed up to get a good angle to slice her throat open, and the flat of her sword struck him first on the shoulder and then the other. He stilled as the point came to a halt near his eyes.

"Very good," she laughed. "A King you are, though you would deny the title. The question now becomes this," she removed the sword tip and replaced it with her hand. She wasn't holding him still anymore, but neither was he trying to move. Whatever this bitch wanted, she was going to say, no matter how hard he tried to get rid of her

A rumble built in his chest, and he rose to his full height. "Speak your piece bitch," he growled. "And get the fuck out of my head. Don't belong here."

She sighed and stroked the skin under his eye with a thumb, then dropped her hand to his. She'd put the sword away at some point, and had something else clenched in her hand instead. He couldn't see what it was; she placed it in his palm and closed his fingers around it. Something cylindrical, cool. Glass. A test tube of some sort?

A wry smile worked its way across her face as he put together the pieces. "You'll never be rid of me. Alpha Furyan, born and bred. I'm in your DNA, as I was in every one of my children's." She hadn't let go of his hand, and he was surprised at his lack of willingness to take it back. "You have found the other half of your equation. From now on things will be diluted. But she brings a different sort of strength to the bloodlines. And if you survive what is coming, the new race to be born may surpass the old, just as it has before. Until then," she raised his hand to her face and kissed it, ignoring the snarl that was pulling his lips back from his teeth. "Until then, there is a job to be done. Be sure of the bond my son, before you shatter it."

A mewl in his ear was all out of keeping with his surroundings, and he lurched upright in surprise. A thud and a surprised cry rang in his ears, and he shook his head to try and get his brain settled back where it should be. The room was dark, the rain was indeed gone, and the screens were all shut. At least that part was right. The vanishing warmth on his skin and a muttered grumbling told him what had become of River. One pale arm snaked its way over the edge of the bed, and she dug fingers into his inner thigh as she hauled herself up from the floor. He grunted and gritted his teeth as her fingernails found a nerve cluster, and she hissed and spat in reply.

His animal stilled. The man took up a defensive stance and looked for the girl. Or the weapon. Neither was anywhere to be found. The spreading roots of the tree were inspected and found to be vacant. The branches above were similarly ruled out as hiding places. The two padded over to the stream, but it was shallow and clear. Nothing hiding there. Across and over to the barrier between his mind and hers. It was solid, images on the other side distorted by the ripples and waves that had been frozen into its surface. The man rapped an experimental knuckle against it. It rang like a bell.

Fuck.

She'd crawled up on the bed now and sat across his legs, glaring at him. She reeked of steel and bitter herbs, wet earth a faint tickle in the back of his nose. No lemons though, and that was a good thing. Another poke at her mind netted him nothing, and the only thing he could think was that he was at least glad he could still feel it. Even if she'd closed it off entirely.

Angry now, and very much confused, he glared back and crossed his arms. He'd had a shitty couple of days, between nearly dying, having to keep her from killing her Captain, and the ordeal the night before. Add the bitch Shirah's meddling to the mix and he was in no mood for games. He broadcast the thought her way, as loud and clear as he could make it, and had the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. Good. So she_ could_ hear him.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the birdcalls that were starting up outside. It was a reminder of his dream that he didn't need, and it only pissed him off even more. What did she want anyways? Was she expecting more arguing? She certainly seemed braced for a fight. Or was she looking for an apology? As much as it galled him what he'd put her through, and it galled him very much indeed, he couldn't bring himself to regret getting her to finally open up. To show him all those things she'd been hiding, in some cases even from herself. After all, she'd accepted him for all that he was. Why shouldn't he have the chance to do the same? Did she really think he'd be scared off by what he saw?

She must have caught the thought. He wasn't shielding it from her. If anything, he was shoving it at her, hoping something would crack the wall and bring the girl back over into his mind, if only so she could push him into the river that was rising at his back. Either way, her shoulders slumped minutely, and a tiny bit of the steel went out of the air around her as she bit her lip and glared down at her hands where they were fisted in the sheets on either side of his legs. It flagged something in his mind, and the animal stepped forward with an idea. The man took it and turned it over a couple times before agreeing.

She wasn't expecting him to lunge for her, and the surprise made it all the easier to bundle her up and pull her into his lap before she could put up a fight. He did net himself a new bruise along the jaw, and a fist to the throat set him coughing for air. But it also made his arms tighten, and he could feel her ribs creaking before a squeak wormed its way up her throat. She struggled again, a full body thrash that he had to lean back to dodge. It didn't matter; he had her where he wanted her, right up against him. Her legs were around his hips like a cage he could never get enough of; and her scent, full of steel and everything else she was feeling, was enough to make him drunk. He buried his face in the base of her neck, rumbling out a growl as he took hold of the muscle there with his teeth.

::Think you got rid of me huh,:: he shouted at the barrier in their minds. It was a challenge and an accusation all rolled into one. ::Think you'd show me everything you thought was horrible about yourself and finally realize that you're more dangerous for me than I am to you?:: The animal was shoving all his frustration and hurt her way. It was what he'd wanted to show her last night, before he lost himself to the rage instead.

Rage that he'd nearly died for lack of information, something he'd killed men for in the past. Rage that he could have died and left her alone. The rage of an animal that was _not_ at the top of its particular food chain, with all the implied superiority that came with it. He pushed it in her direction, trying to make her see that he hadn't meant for things to go that way. He'd wanted to know. He'd wanted her to open up to him, finally, instead of making him wait for the dribbles and drabs she deigned to bestow. But he hadn't wanted to lose his temper with her. Hadn't meant to be so spectacular about it.

It was as much of an apology as he could bring himself to make.

He felt her thought before she opened her mouth, and growled against her skin.

"Words are stones," she whispered in a broken voice. Her fingers were clenching and unclenching on his shoulders, and she'd hooked her feet together behind his back.

Riddick nipped at her clavicle and leaned back to look her in the eye. "Wasn't looking to do it like that," he grumbled finally. The words argument had been lost ages ago and he knew it. Now wasn't the time to dig his heels when there were so many other things to get in the way. "But tell me this," he softened his voice as much as he could and set his hands to either side of her face. "Said in the shuttle you'd do it all again, if I were there on the other side."

Salt water bloomed as tears pooled in her eyes, but her jaw was still set and mulish. He chuckled and thumbed the tears away. "Lying then?"

She shook her head furiously, and buried her face in his chest. The barrier was weakening, just slightly, but the icy chill it had been giving off was fading some. The animal nosed it, and it wobbled. The man was looking for the weak point where he could drive his fist through.

"Then tell me River," he dug his hands through her hair and massaged her scalp as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Was it fear of the past, or fear of me leaving that had you seizing and puking your guts out last night?" He honestly hadn't been able to tell, so over powering had been her emotions and the reek of lemons and bile in his nose.

She took a couple of deep breaths, sat upright again, and rubbed the wetness from her eyes with the heel of her hand. He waited for her answer, curious as to what it may be. It didn't change his decision any, but it would definitely affect how he reacted.

"Both," she said, voice cracking halfway through the word. And the barrier fell.

The man caught her as she stumbled through, the animal bracing her on the other side with a shoulder against her leg. She clung, shaking and twitching, and he pulled her as tight as he could, drawing his knees up to hold her closer to him. He'd been expecting one or the other, but not both. It made what she'd said in the shuttle all the more powerful and her terror the night before all the more clear.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, in both mind and voice. And he was. Pride and his own anger aside, he'd done a lot of stupid things in his life. Lately a good portion of those had been some way connected with the girl in his lap. He couldn't take back the need to know what was going on, but he hadn't needed to know everything all at once, and he definitely hadn't needed to force her like that. Especially after she'd come out of a fit like the one she'd been having in that spare room with the Captain and Inara.

She was shaking her head again, and he did his best to ignore the way his heart pounded as she shifted against him and let her arms creep around his neck. "Better," she whispered, leaning back so she could look him in the eyes. "Better to get it all over at once." Another breath, and she managed a watery smile. "Would prefer though, to not be pushed like that when she is so close to insanity in the first place. Would prefer to decide such things without puking."

That was enough to startle a laugh out of him, and he didn't even mind much when she punched him in the shoulder. She had him there, and he agreed. It had been less than pleasant, trying to keep her from retching her guts out all over him. Even less pleasant, and more sobering, was the seizing, or whatever it had been. Puke he could handle. The seizure had scared him so badly that the animal had taken over. And it was the last reaction he ever wanted to see from her in relation to himself.

She caught the thought and sighed, fingers drifting down his chest to play with his shirt and eyes following her hands. He let her be for the moment, just glad that her scent was back to being mainly apples and rain, bitter herbs and steel having faded to next to nothing. In his mind she'd crawled back into the tree, jaguar draping itself across her and the man taking up station nearby. The stream was closer, he thought. And maybe a bit broader. He could see a divergence, an offshoot that looked like it was cutting a corner into the bank, turning away from the straight slope and curving around behind the tree itself. Towards the cave in fact. He eyed it curiously, and then looked up at the girl. But she was playing with the ears of the animal and ignoring him completely.

"All right then," he murmured, pulling her close enough he could graze his lips along her ear. "Next time I pick a fight with you, I'll make sure you're sane first. And that it's over something stupid. Like the idea you need underwear."

She erupted into giggles, and he was pleased to note the last of the wet earth and herbs leaving her scent as lilacs joined the apples and rain. Nestling a little deeper into his arms, she laid her head under his chin and sighed as her arms crept up around his chest. The girl was starting to fade, head lolling on her shoulders, and the animal nudged her under the elbow. One hand buried itself in the fur at the back of its neck, the other drifted down and laced with the fingers of the man as he reached over from a nearby branch. Heart rates matched with breathing, and he grinned to himself as he started to drift off to sleep. He'd made it through the night, somehow, someway. And damn that bitch Shirah to the lowest level of hell if she thought he was ever going to shatter this bond. He'd burn the world to the ground first.

::The girl is going to ask Inara to find her a corset though.::

He chuckled, making it as low and dark as he could. It was a good thing to fight over, all things considered. Nipping her ear gently, he let his head fall back against the headboard. ::And I'll make you scream for release,:: he muttered back, before sleep and darkness claimed him completely.

**Author's Note**: So. Make a mark on the wall. Riddick apologized. Shock, alarm, etc. Doesn't change the fact that he screwed up any, but hey. Baby steps.

Sorry it took me a while to get this up. I've been struggling with another chapter, along with a near obsession with watching the Fast and Furious movies again. All at once. Down girl! So instead, I went on a Gargoyles binge. Keith David, mmmm his voice…

Anyways, as always, they don't belong to me. Universal, Tuohy, Whedon, Vin, all those guys have much more of a claim than me. Dang.

Shenandoah76209: Ya know, the reactions I got from the last chapter are not what I expected. Here I was kicking myself and going "holy crud what the heck did I do?" And everyone else has been going "Whoohoo!" Twisted, that's what you all are. :P I don't know that they're so much trying to fit into the normal box though. They seem to enjoy doing what they feel like. It's more that they're getting really tired of the crew trying to FIT THEM into a box. And yes. Mal should have known better. And I think if he hadn't just nearly gotten killed, and _Inara_ hadn't been there, he might have thought a bit more before he tried to get River to answer questions like that. Silly man. I love him to death, but he's incredibly boneheaded sometimes.

Rachet: True. I didn't mean to break them, but now that I have, I gotta figure out some way to fix them. Hope you like what I come up with.

Guineverekay: I can sympathize with them both. I've spent a lot of time having River just piece information out, and I figured he'd snap eventually. I just didn't think it would happen like this. Here's hoping I'm over the last of the major MAJOR drama between these two. They're exhausting to keep up with, I tell you what.

Translations:

None! And no scent translations either! I think we've all pretty much got them figured out by now!


	37. Chapter 37

Ch. 37

I have come back to you broken

Take me home

And my body bears this trouble

Take me home

Take me back to my beginning

Before the hell of night set in

And I came to this border

Take me home

"Starlight" Wailin' Jennys

One of the servants found them like that in the morning. Riddick heard the light tap on the door, and then a hesitant push as someone slid it open. He'd forgotten to lock it the night before, and found himself unable to care anyways. River was still tucked up against his chest, just the way she should be, and somehow during the remainder of the night the man, animal, weapon and girl had all ended up tangled in a ball by the stream bank. He did however; wish his goggles were a little closer. As it was the intruder poked their head around the door just about the time he slitted his eyes open to glare. The room was still dim enough that the light filtering in through the translucent walls didn't hurt his eyes too badly.

A girl of about fourteen froze with her hand halfway to the light switch and gaped at them like a fish. Lemons and other assorted citrus rammed their way up his nose, and he wondered at the fear she must be feeling for so much of it to be coming towards him so fast. Her heart was racing far above what was good for her and her breath was stuck in her throat. Muttering to himself about nothing in particular, he closed his eyes and sighed. "Leave the lights out. And let Captain Reynolds know we'll be down in a minute."

River was shifting against him, picking up his wakefulness and the terror of the maid. He laced a hand through her hair and rubbed idly at her ear before turning his head in the direction of the door and bringing out his Lord Marshall voice. It had never failed him so far when it came to giving orders. And it didn't fail him now either. "Now," he growled.

The girl vanished, door sliding shut with a resounding thud. Across his chest, River twitched as she picked up on his amusement and frustration. He let her sift through his mind, and raised an eyebrow as she dissolved into giggles. While definitely better than her glaring at him, or crying, or most importantly, puking and seizing; he was a little puzzled as to why she found it so funny. He'd kept his goggles on the whole day before, even in rooms dim enough for his eyes to not need them. They hadn't given the servants or any of the Companions who'd come down to visit Inara any sort of explanation. Now they'd need one. He didn't think his usual bit about a pack of Menthol Kools and a prison Doc was going to help much with staying under the radar.

::Blind,:: she croaked in his mind, too occupied with her laughing fit to bother with speaking out loud. He blinked and looked down at her. She had her face buried in his chest, her hands clutching at his shirt and the air around them was full of apples and rain and silk and lilacs. Steel gone, lemons a forgotten memory, he was almost suspicious at how easily she'd fallen back into herself.

Walling that thought off before she could catch it and turn into a spitting angry mess again, he fisted the hand wound into her hair and pulled her head back so he could grin down at her. "Blind eh," he asked, dropping his lips to hers and setting himself to memorizing their contours.

She gasped, and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. She shifted against him, hands going from his chest down to his hips and then up under the tank he'd been wearing since sometime yesterday. Someone had washed it while they cleaned up after arriving at the guesthouse. He wondered for a moment what had happened to River's clothes. She was still wearing the robe he'd found her in the night before, and not a stitch underneath. Just the way he liked it.

Slipping his hands under the silk, cool and smooth against his skin, he wrapped fingers around her hips and pulled her just a little tighter. Vanilla was rising around him, mixed with spice and musk and warm fur, and she moaned against his mouth. She was coming over all hot and wet against his crotch, and she'd managed to worm a hand down between their bodies and was trying to get at the snap for his pants. He kind of liked having her where she was though, and torturing her just a little.

She swatted at the man in his head as he laughed and pulled her out of the tree. The animal wasn't going to be any help either; it lounged in the branches and watched her with amusement. She snorted and switched tactics. A twist of her hand and a yank and she'd gotten his shirt up and he either had to let her have it or have his arms taken off as she kept going with the pull.

Grumbling and muttering in his head about pushy little lunatics who just couldn't take no for an answer, he let go of her hips long enough to let her finish yanking the shirt over his head. She didn't give him a chance to grab hold of her again, and in some complicated maneuver only she could have pulled off, she'd gotten him to lay his legs flat and had her teeth sunk deep into a pectoral muscle as she laid herself out across him. He groaned as she rubbed against his shaft, which she'd also somehow freed from his pants, and nearly lost his mind as she started trailing her lips down his ribs and abs and ever closer to his hips. She was laughing in his head, a triumphant noise that was better than anything he'd heard out of her for the past day, and he couldn't bring himself to fight it when she set herself between his knees and pulled until he was stretched out before her.

Her mouth had just found his dick when someone pounded on the wall just next to the door and yelled. "You two even awake in there? We're burn'n daylight!"

He heard booted feet on hard wood, and had absolutely no time to do anything but wish, very fervently, for one of his throwing knives as the door cracked open. River froze, and he felt teeth scrape against extra sensitive skin as she pulled off of him and buried her face in his stomach. He fisted one hand in her hair and scrabbled for the sheets with the other. But they were lying on _top_ of them, and he was coming up dry.

"Get the fuck out," he snarled, and River's quivering against him as she gulped down horror and laughter in equal measures was definitely _not_ helping matters any.

Mal nearly tore the door from its track, so fast did he slam it shut again. The movement of the air sent blast of embarrassed anger, horror, and something he couldn't identify to invade his nose, and Riddick snorted as he tried to clear the smell out and replace it with vanilla and musk. ::You didn't hear him coming?:: His mental voice was rough with rage, but it wasn't directed at her. Honestly, as many people as there were fucking each other on that boat, did the man not know the meaning of a _closed_ door?

::Was distracted.:: The girl curled up against the man as he dropped to the stream bank and shook her head. ::Very distracted.:: She crawled up his body so she could press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, then slipped off the bed. He reached for her, but she was gone, halfway across the room and wrapping that stupid robe around herself as she went. He growled, contemplating going after her and finishing what they'd started.

She shook her head at him as she bent to pick up his discarded shirt and toss it his way. ::Captain goes to complain to Inara. She will have to come and leave clothes for the girl anyways.:: She tilted her head to one side and her eyes glazed. ::It is nearly nine o'clock. The girl and the Riddick have slept long.::

Grumbling and growling and doing nothing to hide his irritation, Riddick pulled the shirt back on, drug his pants back up to his waist, and came to his feet. Two large strides got him in reaching distance of River and he backed her up against the dresser, braced himself against it with a hand to either side of her shoulders, and pressed the full length of his body against her. She bit her lip and her eyes glassed over again as he found her hips with his and ground against her. Her legs were starting to part for him when he heard more noises in the hall outside. He dropped his head to bury his face in her hair and made the conscious decision not to kill whoever it was. River giggled breathlessly in his ear at that.

A light tap at the door, and an amused voice called softly. "Here are your clothes River. Do come out soon. I think Mal's about to have a heart attack. And they're going to clear breakfast shortly."

He waited till he was sure Inara was gone, bit down on the warm skin beneath his mouth and sucked. The girl whimpered against him, and her knees sagged. Still pressing himself against her, trailing his nose up her neck to her ear, he reached behind her, grabbed his goggles from the dresser, and pulled away. She whimpered again at the loss of his body against hers, and he laughed inside as the girl went lunging after the man to beat on him with her tiny fists. Tiny, hard fists.

He grunted at the mental assault, but otherwise ignored her. See who was left wanting more would she? He didn't bother to shield the thought, and was unsurprised when she landed on his back. Neither was he particularly surprised when she threw her weight into trying to tip him over backwards. Laughing, he let her, and had the satisfaction of nearly crushing her before she managed to scramble out of the way. He caught her by a wrist as he went down, turned the fall into a flip, and had her under him before she knew what was happening. The man sat back and grinned up at the animal, who'd orchestrated the whole maneuver, and the two of them poked and nosed at the girl he had pinned.

::Not so fast,:: he grumbled as he found her lips with his again. ::Breakfast can wait.::

~HHYFN~

Breakfast, did not in fact, wait. They arrived just as the serving girls were clearing the last of the plates and platters from the table, and River gave him a particularly hard pinch in the side along with a mental grumble. He ignored her. It was her fault in the first place. He wouldn't have had to resort to trickery if she hadn't gotten cold feet.

::In front of an audience?::

The incredulity in her voice reminded him of the next person on his list of people who needed to be skinned out like game. Convenient then, that the man who was the target of his anger was seated right in front of him. Inconvenient, though, that Inara was there as well. He growled, a low rumble in his chest that he made no effort to hide, and snagged a mug and a pot of what smelled like tea from the last serving girl as she tried to beat tracks out of the room. She didn't put up a fuss, fleeing before he could get a good fix on her scent.

::Word of the eyes has traveled,:: River murmured in his head as she pulled out a chair and leaned over to lay her head briefly on Inara's shoulder. The woman smiled and reached up a hand to squeeze that of the girl's before going back to her portable Cortex and whatever she was doing with it. Next to her Mal was turning colors as he sipped coffee between clenched jaws.

Riddick set down the mug and the teapot and laughed as he pulled out a chair of his own. "Gonna break something like that Mal."

A wordless and inarticulate noise escaped the Captain before he managed to draw another breath and make his vocal cords work properly. "My _daughter_," he fairly yelped. "Can't believe you have my _daughter _ doing-"

"Something I've done for you a number of times?" Inara's voice was sweet poison as she cut in, and Riddick barked out another laugh. It earned him a hate filled look from Mal and a roll of the eyes from River. The girl was turning colors, and burnt sugar overpowered the rest of her base scent. Mal just reeked of anger and embarrassment.

"Should learn to wait for an answer before you go opening doors," Riddick regained control of his laughter, helped by a kick in the shin from River. He glared at her for a second before grinning at the Captain, letting all his teeth show.

"He never was much for the manners part of things," Inara sighed as she took another sip from her cup.

"Hey now," Mal yelped. A jerk and a hiss of pain on the man's part told Riddick that one or more of the women had just kicked him in the leg. Good. Man needed it. In his head River twisted, sending amusement and resignation firing through his brain, and he got the impression she was bracing herself for a lifetime's worth of squawking on the part of her adoptive father.

What she had planned for the day ahead wasn't going to make it any better though, and he told her so as clearly as he could. The girl shrugged and burrowed a little further into the warmth of the animal as it curled around her. What would come would come. It was unavoidable that they needed Paul, just as it was unavoidable that he, Riddick, was going to have to set aside his anger at the man to keep Mal from killing him. It was going to be a very long morning.

"Have a request Inara," River said softly, and Riddick blinked at the change in her voice. Lilacs and steel drifted around them, and he was startled enough at the odd combination that he almost didn't notice that the girl had stolen his tea. He snarled at her in the silence of her mind and she ignored him. Her face was dead serious, and if it wasn't for the warnings given off by her scent, he would have expected her to draw a blade right there.

Inara didn't have his nose though, and was truly concerned as she looked up from the Cortex pad and gave a hesitant smile. "Yes _mei mei_, what is it?"

"Need you to help the girl acquire a corset. Steel-boned preferably. Someone keeps cutting her undergarments to pieces."

The animal froze. The man roared with laughter. Riddick sat stock still and did his level best to keep his face from giving him away. The little witch was going to go through with it! Son of a fucking bitch!

A thud and a yell announced Mal's reaction. A veritable storm of Chinese was almost turning the air colors, and one shaky hand rose over the edge of the table and clung there as if the man had fallen over the edge of a cliff instead of off his chair. Peals of laughter rang through Riddick's head, and his ears too as River bent double with laughter and nearly brained herself on the edge of the table. Grumbling, Riddick propped her back upright and held her there. She flapped a hand at him, gave the man in his head a shove when he went to prod at her, and dissolved back into giggles.

"Well." Inara was blinking at them, "That certainly explains a great deal." There was a smile tugging at the edges of her mouth, and laughter hid in her eyes as she raked Riddick over with an assessing gaze. He lifted a lip in silent snarl in reply, and had the second major shock of the morning as she lifted a hand over her mouth and tittered. Tittered! Where the fucking hell had his edge gone?

:Still there,:: River gasped in his head. ::But she has a long history of dealing with recalcitrant men.:: She was still laughing, but she was having an easier time breathing. She lay alongside the stream, sprawled and joyful, and the man kept checking the air above him for the weapon to make her appearance and land on his shoulders. No _way_ was she in this good a mood after the night they'd had. Or with the day coming.

And just like that, she sobered. Apples and rain, cool water and steel made their way up his nose, and her laughter died off in a couple of last chuckles. Inara was looking from one to the other, obviously trying to figure out what had changed. Mal was eyeing them like he expected them to explode, or for River to have another fit like the one in the dressing room the night before.

Next to him, the girl sighed and leaned her head into his shoulder. ::Have to find the joy. Things will turn out ok. They have to. And the Riddick has not left her for her weakness. Maybe she still keeps up.::

The ex-convict snorted and stole his mug back, filling it with the last of the tea and draining it in one swallow. ::You mean I keep up with you. Idiot.::

She elbowed him in the gut and gave him a grin full of saccharine sweetness. ::_Hwoon dahn_::

~HHYFN~

It didn't take long to get their stuff together. Riddick shrugged back into his harness, stiffening and scratchy where it rubbed along his skin. He'd only gotten it half done, and while he'd put up with far worse in life, he didn't look forward to having to make an entirely new assembly if he could help it. River snatched the saddle soap and neatsfoot oil before he could pocket them, giving him a look that suggested he was being a child for trying to keep them.

That earned her a tweaked ear and mental promise of ignoring her later in favor of paying attention to his gear. Whatever she thought about that turned her face colors and made burnt sugar swim through the air. Mixed with vanilla, interestingly enough. He eyed her sideways as she buckled on her gun, and then shrugged. He'd get it eventually. Besides, sharing her past hadn't meant she'd promised to always share her thoughts with him. And he hadn't asked her to. She'd been right after all. A person without privacy of thought was something else. Something less. Like what he felt like when Shirah went rampaging through his dreams. The bitch.

River gave him a flat look and mental prod coupled with the promise that she'd be worming the story of his dream, whole and entire, from him at some point. He lifted a lip and growled as they left the guest house and started down the path. The fuck she would. He had a sinking feeling that the more she got out of him on the subject of the crazy Furyan woman, the closer the woman would get to being able to invade _her_ dreams too. One person being meddled with by a disembodied voice was enough for now.

The silent snarl nearly turned into a full-fledged growl when he saw who was waiting for them at the head of the trail down the hill. Seemed the man had made up his mind after all. It didn't mean he had to like it. Or be nice about it. The day was already fucked enough as it was. Shouldering his way past Mal and ignoring the glare he got in return, he looked down at River, who seemed to be trying to be looking for something. The girl in his mind was crouched on a tree branch, eyeing the stream below as if she was planning on jumping.

Turned out it she was trying to find the right trail down the hill. They weren't going down the way they'd come up, and as far as he was concerned that was all to the good. So far nothing had come of the pile of bodies they'd left in the market the day before, but he wasn't interested in walking into a set of cops looking for someone to blame. Or another pack of gang members. Or whatever they'd been. Either way, better to find new territory to cut through.

River just shook her head and continued picking her way through the elaborate rock and flower gardens that surrounded the Companion's compound and the guesthouses just outside of it. He personally, was going to be glad to get away from the nose crippling smell of rotting vegetation coming from the small patch of jungle that topped the hill. That was one thing about space. The filters might make the air stale, but he could identify scents far easier in a contained area.

::Going soft. Not cut out for planet side life anymore?::

He wasn't even going to dignify that with an answer, although Mal gave him an odd look for the growl he was keeping in his chest. He ignored the man, as he'd been doing for the past ten or fifteen minutes, and concentrated on holding onto River's scent. Apples yes. Rain was a given too. The cool water was interesting given the situation, and he could pick up hints of steel as well. He almost made a comment, but a mental kick in the ribs shut his mouth on it.

Fine then. She wanted to be quiet and mysterious and ignore the grumbling of the men she was dragging along with her? She could have it her way. He let her know in very certain language that any restraint on his part should be counted as a great favor to her and he expected repayment in kind. Preferably with her naked and shrieking. All that got him was a draft of vanilla and an amused look over her shoulder. At least it was something.

~HHYFN~

They picked up a ride in a low flying hovercraft when they reached the base of the hill. The market apparently didn't wrap _all_ the way around the base, and they managed not to draw more than one or two strange looks before for they found the thing River called a rickshaw. He wasn't going to ask. She was still giving off faint traces of steel and cool water, but charcoal was starting to thread its way into her scent for the first time in he didn't know how long. It had been pure witch-hazel when he found her last night, and the river-weapon-girl had clawed at him behind her eyes. He propped his feet up against the empty seat opposite and closed his eyes, ignoring the sights outside and Mal's glaring. River leaned against his shoulder, a small warmth that smelled increasingly of cool water and charcoal.

The ride was silent. Mal tried to get them to talk at several points along the way. Riddick pretended to be asleep, letting River either ignore or snap at the Captain as she felt like it. He himself was trying to pick apart the memories she'd given him, seeing if he could line them up in any sort of coherent order.

What he was after specifically were the ones related to her time in Mik-lat. They were a chaos of sights and sounds, threaded through with whimpers and screaming as one dream after another ran off into one of those black blanks. Or were they waking memories? It was hard to tell, and he was getting a headache trying. But the more information he had going into this, better he'd feel. It was itching at him, the knowledge of what this man had done in the name of getting River sane. The picture of her wrapped up in a straightjacket kept coming to the fore, and it was pissing him off.

He didn't want to examine too closely why.

A small hand slipped into the crook of his elbow at some point, and she laid her head against his shoulder. Mal's teeth were grinding, but the man had given up on getting anything out of the girl for the time being. Not that he'd been trying all that hard. The episode last night seemed to have convinced him that poking for information on this particular topic was liable to get him killed. They were almost to the end of this leg of the journey anyways.

Then, maybe once they'd gotten to where they were going and the Captain had found out exactly who Paul was, then maybe they could get rid of the man. He was starting to get on Riddick's last nerve, between the judging, the squawking, and the incessant need to know what the fuck was going on with his people at all times. It was a wonder he hadn't killed him yet.

::Worries. For the girl.:: River's voice was soft in his head, and man and animal eyed her where she stood by the stream. ::She was gone so long. Came back herself but not herself. Like last time only not. Is trying to relearn who she is.::

Riddick kept himself from snorting audibly, but didn't reply in words. He let his irritation and general frustration speak for him. A bit of wet earth wormed its way up his nose, but it was nothing on scent of her low-grade insanity. He knew it meant she was keeping hold of that calm voice by the skin of her teeth, and one wrong move would send it over into witch-hazel instead. Reaching, the animal nosed up beside her and started trying to siphon off some of the nerves that had the girl quivering where she stood. Next to him, she relaxed slightly, and a few apples appeared instead of charcoal.

::Can't piece together the memories,:: she shrugged and let the animal support her as she sat down. ::The girl can force them into order, because those around her remembered the chronology of the fits. Because she knows, she can build a timeline for herself. But it got lost in translation. Or was never possible to give.::

Curious, the man came up beside her and crouched to look at the stream as she drew a finger through it. The memories floated to the surface, and he tilted his head to look her in the eye. She was smiling, but it was a sad smile that shook around the edges. The animal pulled a few more nerves from her, stuffing them down a hole next to it in the ground and snarling at them for good measure.

Thumb rubbing idly along her hand where it lay in his, Riddick watched the memories and tried to make the ones in his head match. A slow build. A fit here and there. Whimpering as Kaylee fought with Simon over some little thing. Tension and gasping as Mal and Inara had yet another squabble in a long line of squabbles; each designed to cover up the fact that they both wanted each other desperately and neither knew how to go about getting the other to cave. Locking them in a hold for two days had been a last resort, not a comic prank.

It got worse. She could keep it together on jobs, but would return to the ship shaking and glassy eyed as the voices of those around her screamed their terror of Miranda, Reavers, the Alliance, anything. Simon kept wanting to give her different doses of the meds he'd been using since Ariel. And for a while she let him. For a while they helped.

It took a nightmare in broad daylight, picked up from a little girl half a planet away to make her realize that the meds were useless now. It took several days of hiding in air ducts and locking herself in the bridge to shake and rock and listen to the ship talk to her before she could get enough of a grip to try and talk to Simon.

It hadn't worked. Not that time or any of the times thereafter. He'd just wanted to try different meds. Riddick snarled at the images as they came and went, and the girl next to him buried her face in his side. She'd put them in order for him, but she wasn't watching any more. He had half a mind to just walk away. Away from the stream, away from the memories. In the physical, wet earth and charcoal overran the cabin of the little hovercraft they were in, and she clutched at his hand. In the mental, she tried to flinch away, but he had an arm around her and wasn't about to let her. _She_ didn't need to see this, but he did for reasons he couldn't explain, and the only way he was going to get them in some sort of coherent form was with her help.

::Said you stole a shuttle.:: He said, dipping a hand in the stream and trying to push the memories along to that point in the timeline. ::But you could barely fly the ship some days. And that thing doesn't have the range to make it this far.::

::Did.:: She wasn't letting him see that, and he couldn't get the animal to bring it up either. It was busy, keeping a constant pull on the nerves that built and rebuilt inside the girl and shoving them further and further down the hole next to it. ::Took it on Greenleaf. Had found Paul in the river. Knew how to wave him. Hid until he got there and brought me to Mik-lat.:: She shuddered, in his mind and in his head. ::Captain Daddy will try to kill him. Won't listen. Won't want to. Don't want them to die.:: He didn't know if she was asking him not to kill the other men, or if she meant that Paul would try and kill Mal right back. He let the memories fade. They weren't helping right now, and she was getting more and more agitated. It was starting to set him off, this worry about these other men.

He got it, sort of. One had taken her in and given her family. One had come and brought her to a place of sanctuary so she could try and rebuild her fractured mind. But did either of them see _her_? He knew Mal didn't. The Captain saw a little girl in need of protection and sheltering, even when he insisted she was able to come out on jobs. Riddick suspected having her pilot the ship had made the man feel all kinds of smug. Here was a girl who could do anything needed when she was sane and put her mind to it. But having her fly the ship meant she had to stay with it more often, which got the Doctor off his back about her being out on jobs, and let him give her something to do that didn't stick her in the middle of firefights. He won, all around.

Riddick blinked down at the girl by the stream. She was smiling, one hand to his temple, and he realized she'd been feeding her assessment of the Captain into his mind. As an experiment, he wondered on Paul and his motives. She frowned and turned away, going stiff where she sat next to him. The animal growled and pulled out more nerves. He growled back at it, and the sound rippled through the tiny cabin. Mal's head snapped around, and River shrank into him, begging him silently, franticly, not to start something now. Please not now. Not when they were so close

He snarled back at her, animal and man both frustrated beyond belief at this insistence on protecting a man who'd tied her up and locked her in a padded room. She slapped a hand in the stream, splashing him in the face with the spray, and fled for the tree. The animal followed; every hair on end and head low as it chased its prey. The man shook his head as the water drew some of his anger, but still didn't let go of it entirely.

::Told him to do it,:: she shouted from the safety of her perch. ::Had just killed three of the servants, thinking they were attacking. They came bringing food. A knife to spread the jam on toast. It fell.:: He got the impression of explosions and pain, and she shuddered next to him. He was aware of Mal glaring at them, but was more concerned with the charcoal filling the air than the tender feelings of a man too blind to see past the end of his nose. He turned his hand over and caught her fingers in his grip, letting the animal do what it could to keep her calm, despite its own growing anger. Pulling her nerves out wasn't working all that well anymore. He hoped she'd last long enough to stay coherent when they arrived.

They _had _arrived. The thud of the rickshaw landing jolted River out of whatever she was going to say next. He took a second to glance down at her, skin paler than usual and jaw set, and grumbled to himself. Across from them, Mal was paying the driver and getting the roof of the little passenger compartment open so they could get out. The wet heat slapped him in the face again, and he smelled some sort of flower over all the rotting plant matter and hot rubber of the parking area. Giving River one last growl to remind her that the discussion wasn't over; the animal sank to its haunches on the branch below her. She was locking herself down, doing her best to hold her emotions in, and without climbing up to reach her the jaguar couldn't keep pulling her nerves from her. Every time it had tried it had gotten kicked in the jaw. But she had to let down her guard at some point.

Riddick growled as he hauled himself out of the little craft and looked around. They were halfway up a small mountain, and the ground around the parking pad sloped steeply, covered in jungle growth and dotted here and there by a gleaming roof poking out of the trees. Turning, he found an even steeper incline, this one bare of all but a few trailing vines covered in pale flowers. The source of that particular smell discovered, he looked turned a little further. A path led up out of the landing pad and up alongside the cliff face. It was smooth, and obviously cared for by somebody, but the contrast of dirt to concrete was odd.

Glancing down at River, he got another muffled draft of charcoal and steel, with only a little bit of cool water to even things out. She was staring at her Captain with narrowed eyes, as if daring him to say something. The man himself was looking around, getting the lay of the land. From the way his eyes flickered here and there, he was looking for ambush points, cover, and ways out. One hand rested on his gun, but the holster was clipped and it didn't look like he was about to draw. Finally he focused on River again, lips compressed into a thin unhappy line. "Want to tell me why it's look'n like a good day for a walk 'Tross?"

River readjusted her gun belt, shifting the holster around from where she'd pulled it on sitting down next to him. He gave her a wry look and pushed the thought at her that if it came to needing guns they may as well just throw any attackers off the cliff. The girl in the tree stuck her tongue out at him, but she was refusing to look his way. His irritation, already on a slow boil, ratcheted up a couple notches.

"No space to land at the top. This is highest parking level." Her words were clipped, and she brushed past both men and started for the trail with a stride that said for all the word that she didn't give a fuck if they followed or not. She was heading up. If it hadn't been for the fact that he knew she was steeling herself for what lay ahead, that she wasn't nearly as confident as she tried to act, Riddick might have just let her go and gone to take a nap somewhere until she came back. But he'd be a special kind of hypocrite if he did that. And he had a feeling that with the state she was in, there'd be blood and cops before too long if he let her go off who knew where without him to keep an eye on her. Mal was grumbling and muttering as he fell into step behind Riddick, who was more stalking the girl than following her, and the three of them had soon left the parking pad behind.

It wasn't a steep climb. There were a lot of switchbacks, and he could see the city laid out before them as they rose higher and higher. It stretched to the horizon in every direction, shining roofs making a slow march out of the jungle growth to coalesce, congregate and multiply both in number and in height until they came together in tall buildings of steel and glass and extensive decoration. Hills like the one the Companions had their Training House on poked up here and there. They didn't so much rise as they thrust up into the sky, smaller versions of the spires on T-2. He growled and looked away, focusing on the trail beneath his feet and River's swaying hips in front of him.

It pissed him off that she was ignoring him. Well, not ignoring him. When he lengthened his stride to catch up, she trotted further ahead. When the animal tried to get up on her branch again, it got a heel to the face and a snarl of her own. She knew he was there. She knew both sides of him were fuming. But she was dead set on her goal, and he'd spent too much time bullying her Captain and looming at her crew in defense of it to have any hope of getting her to abandon it now.

It galled though, that she'd only given him half the story and let him assume the rest. It was like a knife, twisting in his gut, this knowledge that they were going to ask for help from a man who'd tied her up and locked her in a room. For her own good or not, whether she'd asked for it or not, he couldn't get the image of her in a straightjacket out of his head.

Only it wasn't an image. Not really. She'd caught glimpses of herself in that state in a mirror. But he had mainly gotten the feeling of it. The restriction of movement, the inability to control the actions of the hands. She'd been in the middle of detox, the worst part. She'd been on those meds so long that she'd built a reality with them as the foundation; and the foundation was so flawed and cracked that it had stopped holding her together and instead been the cause of her collapse. She'd needed a new one, needed a new ground to hold her as the voices and thoughts and screams ran through her like electric shocks. But the rubble had to be cleared out first, the meds that had only kept her half sane. And in the meantime, she'd lost her mind completely.

The man knew the feeling of the mindlessness. His animal knew the feeling of the straightjacket. It used cryo as its point of reference, but it knew all the same. It was the feeling that drove him halfway to insanity and made even a maximum security prison feel like a measure of freedom. Fuck, Crematoria hadn't been so bad compared to being tied hand and foot with a bit in his mouth and blindfold over his eyes as he got shuttled from one planet to another. Even when he put himself in cryo on purpose; even after he learned to override the med cocktail's involuntary shutdown of the motor functions. It was still fucking torture to be stuck in one spot. Smelling the people around him, hearing their heartbeats and knowing that they slept. They slept while he woke and tried to keep the animal occupied with thoughts and plans of escape and anything that didn't have to do with taking the freedom of movement that came when the cryo timers ran out and gutting every last one of them.

He knew the feeling all right. And the animal was starting to lend its fury to the rage of the man, stronger and stronger the closer they got to their goal. How the hell had she managed to come out of the lunacy? How many more had died before she'd snapped out of it? He couldn't really bring himself to acknowledge the help that had been given. He was too pissed that they'd put her in the jacket and the room in the first place. It wasn't the animal's idea of help, to confine and constrict and immobilize. The man knew better of course, but the he too was fixated on that room. On the blood preceding and the huge black blanks before during and after. He was too busy trying to funnel the rage into putting together the puzzle pieces.

Mal was muttering behind him about the climb, the planet they were on, the heat and the muggy wetness of the air. Anything he could think of or see apparently. Riddick listened with half an ear, waiting for the man to get around to his real target of irritation. It wouldn't take long, he knew that much. Whether he'd be able to keep from throwing the man off the cliff was another question entirely.

That or skin him out and leave him hanging for passersby to wonder at. He was just about pissed enough to go with the second choice; and wished fervently that the man had stayed behind or would at least give him a good excuse to vent his frustrations. He refused to take it out on River if he could help it. The man knew it would do them more harm than good in the long run. The animal was just trying to focus on trying to take swipes at her and pull out more of her building nerves. It was the best alternative it could come up with for dealing with the anger it held.

She was a good ten meters in front of him now, having kept going as he slowed down and thought on things. He let her, knowing that he'd be able to follow the scent of cool water and steel if she made any sort of attempt to really lose him. The faint traces of charcoal were only slightly worrying, and he would have been more alarmed if he _hadn't_ been able to tell she was a slightly off her rocker. The animal had managed to sneak up onto a branch near her, and she was so fixated on the task in front of her that she didn't notice it start its steady draw on her nerves again. Or so he hoped.

It was the only way he saw them all getting through this in one piece, if he took her anxiety and stuffed it down that hole inside. He didn't have any calm to offer her though. It was taking everything he had at the moment not to catch up, grab her, and fling them both back down this mountain. He was sure it'd be a minor miracle if he didn't end up killing someone by the end of the day. And more proof that God hated him. Because sure as fuck, he _really_ wanted to kill something.

"You know something."

Mal was as good a target as any. Riddick had an ulak out and was turning with his arm raised before he knew what he was doing. Cold steel met his forehead, and he stopped. Hard eyes met his through the goggles and a slight smile twitched at the edges of the man's mouth. Riddick privately raised his assessment of the man's instincts up a notch or so. Either that or the Captain was a little more observant than he'd been giving the man credit for.

A torrent built in his mind and cold water swallowed the man and crept up the exposed roots of the tree. As suddenly as it had come it was gone, leaving him stripped of a good portion of the rage that had fueled the action. The girl in the tree was staring at him, eyes narrowed, and he met and matched her concern and awareness with his own. Apparently she'd been paying more attention to his mental state than he'd thought. Something like amusement trickled over to him, and he took comfort in the fact that while she may be hovering on the edge of lunacy, she had enough life left in her to mock him.

Letting his favorite smirk crawl across his face, he savored the heady tang of unease that drowned out the certainty the Captain had been giving off seconds before. Sheathing the ulak, he turned to look up the slope, where River was disappearing around a tree infested corner. "And if I do? Expect me to share?"

"Be mighty helpful. Girl's got me walking into who knows what." Mal hadn't put the gun away, but he did lower it. Uncertainty and worry filled the air around him, and if his mind hadn't just been forcibly separated from his rage, Riddick may have taken more advantage of that. As it was he shared the feelings, mixed with that slow burn of determination to make someone _pay_ for what had happened to River. She shifted in his head, but the waters didn't come up to drown him again. The animal took another furtive swipe at the black knot building around her and didn't come away with much.

"Haven't you heard Mal? Patience is a virtue." Riddick turned away, intent on catching up to her this time. He knew the charcoal would be overwhelming everything else by now. It pissed him off, that she wasn't letting him help. Did she think she had to do everything on her own now? Stupid little idiot. He pushed the feeling and idea her way and instead of making her soften, or even flinch, she stiffened and drew away. Great. Just what he needed.

"Riddick." There was a different tone in the Captain's voice now. Something serious and deadly that put him in mind of some of the commanders he'd known. This was the man who'd survived a long war and several more years of jobs that would have killed anyone else. "You hurt her. Ever. Don't care how good at killing you are." He didn't have to finish. They both knew he'd been as clear as day.

Riddick snorted. "Think I already done the worst I can." But it was too soft for Mal to hear, and he was gone before the man could complain for the lack of answer.

River had reached the top of the trail by the time he caught up with her. Mal wasn't very far behind, and the man cursed as he came around the last corner. Riddick spared a glance backwards, but his main attention was focused on the girl standing in front of a huge bronze gate. Set into a gap in the cliff face, it had been cast with a huge cross in the center, rays of what he supposed where light spread behind it. A curl of ribbon wrapped around the top, with words on it he could only tell weren't in Common. Set in the cliff face next to the gate was a plaque that read "Brothers of Emiliani" in a blocky print. He guessed the Chinese characters below the Common said the same thing.

River was standing by the plaque, speaking into a small vidscreen, and the smell of cool water and charcoal in the air almost overrode the hot metal and muggy flatness that surrounded them. This high up they were above the trees and there was a bit of a breeze flowing across the face of the cliff in front of him.

Anger and hatred filled the air and made him turn, and he found Mal next to him, jaw set and fists clenched. But the man's eyes weren't on him. They were on the door. On the girl, who'd finished talking to whoever it was and had turned to look at the men behind her. Her eyes were huge and wild, but her face determined, and she was shaking like a leaf. The animal tried to reach her, but she'd closed herself down. Snarling, it paced in front of her where she sat on the other side of the barrier between their minds. But he doubted she was aware of it. She clutched her knees to her chest and rocked in time to the heartbeat he could hear all the way across the tiny clearing in front of the gate. She was right; the rickshaw would have never fit up here.

"Tross." Mal's voice was rough with rage. "You know _exactly_ how I feel about God."

Riddick blinked and looked at the door, then back at Mal. He knew what the cross meant of course. The prime religion on many civilized planets in his home systems may have been Islam, but there were pockets of Christianity scattered all over the place. Hindus, Jews and a number of tribal pagan cults as well.

Personally, he didn't hold much with the multi-armed statues he'd found on a planet with more snakes and water monsters than was safe for anyone. And the rituals with chicken feet and animal blood drawn in patterns on the body didn't seem to carry much force. They certainly hadn't kept him from gutting a tribal chieftain and hanging him in a tree by his innards. The man had liked little girls about Sierra's age, and he'd been bringing up a cadre of young men to go find them for him. And sample them first. That had been a month long hunt, toying with the man and the witch doctor who'd backed him. Chicken feet. Hah!

No. He knew the only reason his life could be so fucked up from day one had to be because of something, someone much bigger than all of that. God had him marked as his favorite target for shitting on his head. He knew what that cross meant all right.

River had taken two steps away from the gate and frozen. Her throat worked, her mouth opened, and nothing came out. Her eyes flickered, as if she was going to look to Riddick, but it was an abortive gesture. It pissed him off to no end. Did she really think he wasn't going to stand up for her? Did she really think he'd leave her to swing in the wind about this? Crazy idiotic and lunatic this plan may be; to come ask for help from a man who not only locked her bound in a room to scream at the walls, but who apparently did it in the name of _God_. But it was the only plan they had. Fuck it all anyways, he wasn't about to let her go into this alone.

Growling, he stepped between the Captain and his daughter, ulaks out and lips pulled back over his teeth. "Get the fuck back down that mountain," he snarled at the Captain. "Hate the fucker myself. But if she says this is the way to go then this is the way." Leaning in, he crowded Mal's personal space till he had to back up or get very physical in a way neither of them would like. He moved at the last second, leaning back slightly.

Riddick kept going, herding him towards the head of the trail. He almost aimed for the cliff instead, but the girl in his head whimpered, and he stopped to get a read on her. Deciding to ease up just slightly, he sat back on his heels and scowled. "We'll be fine on our own. Get back down the mountain, go get Inara. Get the fuck off this planet before the shit hits the fan and find yourself a nice hidey hole someplace." He put as much scorn and anger into his voice as he could. "Seems like you're good at that."

Behind him lemons and charcoal and ozone rolled off of River like waves in the ocean. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, drag her down this fucking hill, and get her back on the ship. Get her away from the Captain who looked like he was about to have a stroke or shoot him. Lock her in the shuttle until they could figure out a new plan. And not let her go for a very long time. If ever.

The animal was raging, tearing at the barrier between them and shoving his very strong inclinations her way with everything it had. It still had the feeling of the straightjacket around it, and the added frustration of the girl clinging to the fears she should rightly be letting him take. He wondered briefly at the wisdom of having it hold the borrowed memories. The man pissed about Paul in general, but couldn't deny the necessity of following the only plan they'd manage to come up with so far. He knew that the only reason he hadn't followed through on any of his automatic reactions was the memory of the vision she'd given him. Images of the hybrid armies kept flickering in front of his eyes. The kids, mainly, and the helpless. Those who couldn't defend themselves shouldn't have to be put down like that to save them from worse.

Whatever Mal might have been about to say in reply was cut off. Just as the man's hand went to his gun, a creak and the scrape of metal on stone filled the air around them. Leather scraped over dirt and a new smell drifted over to him. Resignation and sorrow overlaid myrrh and amber, and River's ozone deepened just slightly. In front of him, Mal's eyes when huge, and if he'd thought the Captain was going to have a stroke before, he _knew_ there was an aneurysm bursting somewhere in the man's brain now. The gun cleared leather faster than Riddick thought possible. But it wasn't aimed at him. Mal had stepped to the side to give himself a clear shot, and had the sights lined squarely on whoever it was who'd just come through the gate.

River whimpered and twisted in his head, and the animal succeeded in wearing enough of a hole in the barrier to shoulder its way through and stick its nose in her ear. It couldn't pull any nerves though, and it snarled in hopeless rage at this girl who was clinging to tight to her fears. Turning, Riddick tightened his grip on the handles of his ulaks, ready to off whichever one of the people who made the first wrong move. The rage was building in him again. Fucking insanity was what this was. How the hell had he ended up here anyways?

Full lips twitched into a resigned half smile. Round faced, skin so dark as to be nearly black to his vision, the man stood at parade rest. No one could ever get rid of the marks of military training. This man had it in spades. Dark eyes flickered from the girl standing next to him to the Captain drawing short fast breaths next to Riddick, and the man shook his head and spread his hands to his sides.

"Well Captain Reynolds," said the Operative. "It seems you'll get your chance to kill me after all."

**Author's Note**: *Gasp,pant,wheeze* Holy jeeze was this a monster! I know most of you already had Paul figured. But hey. A big reveal was needed. And for those who though Riddick and River got their issues ironed out last chapter? Buckle in, I'm not nearly done torturing them yet. And myself, as I try and keep track of all the different personalities. How did I get myself into this by the way?

A Note. I'm not Catholic. Nor am I Hindu, or know anything about the various Voodoo practices. St. Jerome Emiliani, from my very loose research, is the patron Saint of Orphans. It'll make sense if you think about it a bit. Apologies if the mentions of the other religions are off. I imagine things have probably…mutated a bit in several hundred years and with the addition of space travel. Whoopee!

Other than that, we're finally making progress. I can stop teasing you about Paul, get on with the next level of agony for these two, and poor Mal might just fall over of a stroke here shortly. Maybe. I keep trying to write him in a better light and then Riddick goes and gets his feathers all ruffled and boom. Bad blood.

They are, by the way, not mine. NOT! MINE!

Shenandoah76209: Soooo….I told you I'd torture Mal. Innocent torture, soon to be followed by gut wrenching angst and anger. Fun eh? I think he'd acquired a bit of a blind spot to River's assets now, as opposed to how the movie left them. She's gone nuts and vanished, then been taken by mercs and brought back by a big murderous man who doesn't give a good gorram what her father thinks. Its overprotective Dad mixed with overprotective Captain and he's just not handling things very well. I'm going to keep delving into this whole River and her crew, River and Riddick conflict as I go. Hopefully it'll shed more light on things as I go.

Rachet: Thank you! And yeah. Mal. Ahhhh Mal. Poor man.

Gueineverekay: Hahaha. They're not done! Not by a long shot. Riddick's experiencing this new thing called guilt, and trying to cover it up with anger. Not working so well, doncha think?

Darling Drusilla: Slightly confused, but thanks for the comment! Dunno that we'll get to see any of the Riddick-verse people this go around. We'll have to see. Looking forward to hearing from you again!

Translations:

_Hwoon dahn:_ bastard.

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Lilac: mischief


	38. Chapter 38

Ch. 38

_I know that it never goes away_

_All I feel, everything I'm not today_

_So I try and I try to make everything right_

_I don't feel like I'm doing it, it affects me_

"Fray" Staind

River didn't stop to think. She didn't even know she'd moved until she was there, halfway between Paul and the men who'd followed her here. She rooted her feet to the ground the second she realized, and anchored herself there through sheer force of will. She could have cleared the rest of the space easily, knocked the gun from Mal's hand and begged him to listen. But that would have put her in reach of Riddick, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his first reaction would be to bundle her up in those strong, strong arms and haul her back down the mountain. The fact the she knew he knew this was the only plan they had helped a bit, but she still didn't want to give him a chance to try. There was too much riding on this. Blood and death and wordless screams both vocal and non echoed through her mind as the river brought her possibilities of the futures to come if they couldn't convince Paul to help them.

The man in question hadn't moved from where he stood, framed by the gate. She could feel his regard on her back, eyes watching, examining, and deconstructing her actions. His mind was churning, filled with curiosity, resignation, no little amount of frustration, and just a touch of pride. This is what he'd helped create, a girl who stood on her own two feet and placed herself exactly where she thought she needed to be. He wasn't worried about danger to himself, although considering the thoughts that had been going through Riddick's mind since they left the Training House, he should have been. But he had enough confidence in his own physical prowess as a fighter that even if he'd been aware of the fact that the Furyan was ready to rip him to pieces, it probably wouldn't have made a wit of difference in his reaction. She only hoped that there wouldn't be an occasion to test that. He was, in many ways, still a very civilized man. And the Riddick was very much _not. _

"River," Captain Daddy's voice was hoarse with rage, and he was having visions of Shepherd dying in front of him, of Mr. Universe curled up in the lap of his Love-Bot, of the countless dead and less than dead who used to inhabit Miranda. "'Tross, you know what I told this man last time I saw him?"

That set interest alight in Riddick's mind, and he left off trying to pull her anxiety from her just long enough to send wordless wondering her way. She braced herself, clenched her hands to try and hide the shakes, and ducked her head against the onslaught of emotion that ripped through her. The jaguar must have been more help than she'd thought.

::Just wait,:: she snapped at him. He growled back, low and dangerous. She shifted backwards, the better to get out of reach if he tried to make a grab for her. He was still having flashes of her in a straightjacket, and the rage she'd drowned once already was making its way back to the surface. She didn't have anything left in her to wash it away again.

"She knows," she gritted out when her Captain took another step around Riddick's bulk so he could try and get a clear shot at the former Operative. She shifted with him, blocking the probable path of the bullet. Riddick moved aside and settled his weight on the balls of his feet, ready to take out whichever one of them sent him over the edge first. She regretted walling herself off in her own mind now. She needed the tree, or better yet the fire deep in the cave. But his anger there battered at her, and he didn't have any comfort to offer at the moment. She wished she'd been able to get further in explaining her memories to him. He kept getting stuck on the straightjacket. The screaming and insanity of her mind were lost in the focus he had on the event.

"And you," Mal turned on Riddick, who growled in reply and sank a little deeper into his crouch. Her Captain's voice was cracking with rage, and his face had gone beyond purple and into the realm of apoplectic fit. "Did you know about this?"

She wanted to separate them, but if her Captain couldn't figure out the danger he was in at the moment there was nothing she'd be able to do to keep from placing his head in the jaws of the beast.

In the deepest corner of her mind, she blessed Riddick forever as he answered. His voice was more animal than man, and his knuckles on the handles of his blades were white, but he answered. "'Course I knew."

It wasn't even a lie, but it was at the same time. He'd figured out ages ago who Paul had been, and she'd hoped until last night that he'd never found out just how the man had helped her. But he was supporting her in this, and for that she'd be forever grateful. Especially considering his state of mind over the past hour or so.

::Need him now.:: The man had retained enough of a grip on his mind to make speech possible, but it was the animal with burning silver eyes that was communicating with her. ::We're done here and there won't be enough left of him to pull a DNA test.::

Unspoken in words were the thoughts rippling beneath the surface of his mind. Insistence that there had to have been another way for her to get her mind put back together. Some way that didn't involve being tied up in a room and left to scream her lungs out for a week. Knowledge that he hated the idea that someone else had helped her before him. Fear that she'd pull away from him.

She shuddered and braced herself, looking for an anchor. The river would just take her, the tree was the domain of an animal so full of rage and hatred that she doubted he'd let her near. The man was completely fixed on control, keeping himself from striking out and taking the head from the shoulders of this man who'd tied her up and let her scream and cry herself raw for days on end. _Anger_ became her refuge, and she wrapped it around her like armor, snarling at him in her head. If that's the way he wanted to be then fine. She'd just take care of herself then. About time she learned to stand on her own two feet instead of depending on everyone else for her sanity. Rutting _huh choo-shang tza-jiao duh tzang-huos_ the lot of them.

Something in Riddick shifted as she tied herself up further in her frustrations, but neither of them had time to react. Paul was finally making his move. She felt his mind click into place, felt his decision, complete with the knowledge that she'd be aware of it, and nearly turned and snapped his neck herself. Somewhere deep inside something cried out in agony at the words; and she found herself in the tree anyways, or at least among its roots, before she knew what she was doing. Stupid, stupid man. How could he?  
He could.

He did.

"While I can sympathize entirely with your feelings Captain, I must ask you to consider this." Paul's voice was even, reasonable. He took the two requisite steps needed to bring himself up next to River and spread his hands at his sides as if daring her father to shoot him. "I am not the first person in your acquaintance to have turned from a life of violence and take up orders."

Mal's mind froze. Riddick lost a good deal of his anger and straightened in surprise. River just hunched over and clutched at her knees, cursing the Operative with every filthy word and invective she'd ever heard. Then she made up some new ones. And pulled even more from Riddick's mind to complete the list. The animal stared at her in shock as the tirade rippled out of her mind and into its territory, and the man couldn't help but laugh. It satisfied him, on some unknown level, to know that she wasn't so hooked into the idea of Paul as her savior that she didn't wish him to the deepest levels of Hell and beyond. A black hole maybe. Hooked through time space to the Triassic era and a mouthful of very sharp teeth. Or slow digestion in the belly of some constricting snake. That sounded nice.

"_Gou tsao de Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze! Tian xiz shou you de ren dou gai si!" _Mal breathed. It fit. It all fit. In his brain pieces of a puzzle he'd thought would never be complete all slid into place and the picture they revealed was enough to make him wish _himself_ to the deepest levels of hell. She knew he was missing giant pieces of the image, and she'd hoped he'd never know this much. People deserved their secrets after all, and she'd been carrying this one so long.

Riddick poked at her, all curiosity and interest, and she caught the mental hand and clung. ::He does not have all information. Please please please wait for her to explain later.:: She was shaking, with rage and sorrow and emotions she didn't have a name for. He was picking up on it, eyeing Mal and Paul in turns and trying to decide which had her more worked up and who to gut first. A moment, longer in their heads than it was in the physical, and he relented.

Mal opened his mouth again, and she knew she was about to come under fire. No way she couldn't have known this. No ruttin' way. He was doing what he rarely did, and thinking as directly at her as he could. He knew how it worked after all, or mostly. She picked up on things. She couldn't not. And when they thought right at or about her it rang like a church bell in her mind. She whimpered slightly and clutched at her head.

A scrape and a shift and a warm hand touched her shoulder, genuine concern washing over her as Paul used his limited senses to try and get a read on her. He had an advantage in that he'd seen her absolutely lunatic as few but Riddick had, but he wasn't scenting her, wasn't sending the animal after her to pull out the ever increasing nerves, and that fact alone made her shy away from him. He meant well, but he wasn't the Riddick and never would be.

It almost terrified her, how dependent she'd become on the jaguar and his tree.

"Might I suggest that we move this conversation inside?" The man's voice was quiet, the odd cadence of his words pulling her out of her introspection. Riddick took the opportunity to get within arm's reach of her, and his hand was firm on her elbow as he helped her to her feet. He was glaring at the Operative though, and she was surprised that the other man didn't notice. The goggles, she supposed. They hindered so much. She could have told him how close he was to death at the moment, but she still needed his help, and getting thrown out of the Abbey before they'd even set foot in it wasn't going to help.

No matter. He'd turned and gone back through the gates, expecting them to follow or not as they would. A broad hand at the base of her spine kept her from wavering before she caught her balance, and she wanted to resist basking in the warmth of the man next to her, but in all honestly, she couldn't help herself. She just wished she didn't need him to support her so much. She was feeling less and less like his match and more and more like the girl who couldn't tell up from purple. Quickly as she could she walled that thought off. She knew what his answer would be. She even knew he was right. But it didn't make the feeling go away.

Captain Daddy was trailing them, a giant furnace of rage and loathing. He hadn't really thought about following them. Not really. He wanted answers, and those were still out of reach. But he was more concerned with trying to fit what he knew of the man he'd trusted, who'd given him advice on how to deal with the one hunting them, with the man he must have been. She hoped Paul wouldn't tell him anymore. She hoped he would. She didn't know what she hoped any more.

Carved stone walls, tucked away gardens, and the occasional curious face passed by in a blur as she clung to her anger and the tree and the knowledge of what would happen if they couldn't find Kyra in time. Her heart was throbbing in her ears, and the quiet voice of the Operative was all wrong. She wanted the rumble like chocolate and coffee sliding over her skin. But the owner of that voice was absorbed in trying to figure out what had gone wrong since this morning, and she couldn't put the words together to tell him. She stumbled, and he steadied her without thinking about it, the animal poking and nosing at her where she huddled on the stream bank. The man paced, eyeing the weapon mirroring her on the opposite shore. Charcoal swam through the air, and she knew she wasn't sane. Had she ever been sane?

And then they were in a room and a door was clicking shut behind them. It was dim, having been carved into the cliff itself. Tapestries depicting various works of the saints hung on the walls in lieu of more modern decoration. A couch rose next to her, and she realized she was being guided onto it. Mal refused to sit, anger still fueling his higher functions at the moment, and she knew that there'd be an accounting for this knife she'd helped lodge in his chest.

"Now," Paul's movements were deceptively calm as he turned the latch on the door and came about to face them. "I believe an explanation is owed."

"Wasn't what he said," she blurted; it being the most coherent thing she could put together at the moment. She felt claws in her back as the jaguar took a solid knot of nerves and drew them out like it was gutting out game. But they were going into the man, and he was getting more and more unstable by the moment. Reaching somewhere deep inside, she hauled up a measure of sanity she didn't know she had and dumped it over his head. He stilled, stared, and stopped pacing.

The others were watching her, all of them questioning what she'd meant. A deep breath, another, and she managed to find the vowels and consonants that matched. "Was an Operative. Set inside before the war. Saw and heard what was to be seen and heard and fed it down the datacables to those who needed it."

"River child I-" Paul was cut off by a snarl from Riddick, and a certain awareness of his precarious position with the stranger bloomed in his mind. He sighed and started again. "I wasn't a spy."

As usual, Riddick got it first, piecing it together from the fragments of memory she'd been unable to keep from him in relation to Book, along with what he'd heard of the man from herself and the crew. "But the holy man was."

That voice. It washed over her and drew confusion out to replace it with the slow burning fire of certainty. The weapon stalked away from it, still angry, while the girl managed a smile up at him. "They saw it coming. Wars are inevitable. Found a man willing to cut out his own eye. Remove the plank from thine own before you attempt to help your friend with the splinter in his." She looked over at Mal, whose face was turning harder and harder by the moment. "If there had ever been an occasion for autopsy. If they hadn't thrown him out and stuffed it under the carpet, it would have been found. He would have been dead already, but it would have been found."

It was one of the few time she'd ever felt shock coming off of Paul. Once or twice while she was screaming her way back to sanity she must have said something that set it off. She remembered the flavor of it, like fizzy candy in her brain. But this was the first time she knew why he was feeling it. He'd known who Derriel Book was in relation to the Alliance. He'd never known where he came from. She wanted to hit him, for bringing it up in the first place, but done was done and the only thing left to do was to make both him and the Captain believe the best of the man. Only she and Riddick ever needed to know the worst.

::Speaking of which,:: the animal set gentle teeth to the girl's elbow, ignoring the hissing shriek of the weapon. ::When you gonna elaborate?::

::He knows the word?:: Her voice was a snarl when she replied, and he reared back. He'd thought she was done being pissed. How did she explain that she was just as angry with herself as she was with him?

A worry for another time. She shoved Riddick's irritation as far to the back of her brain as it would go and focused on the men in front of her instead.

"Captain Dummy talk," Mal ground out. He hated being the only one who didn't understand. "Speak plain."

She tried. She really did. But whatever came out of her mouth was even more garbled. Riddick ended up having to translate. "Your holy man was a plant. I'm guessing cybernetics. Send him to get in good with the Alliance. Put a man like that in a high enough position and you've got yourself the perfect spy." He looked down at her and traced a knuckle over her shoulder, promising retribution for having put him in such a spot. She almost didn't mind. Almost.

Paul cursed quietly. "That…that explains much."

"_I.A.V. Alexander_," she whispered, and felt her eyes roll back into her head. "Didn't have to send notice back to the Independents. Didn't have to do much more than set it up. Four thousand." They might as well know as much as they could now. And it would drive her point home.

She searched for the tree. It was there, and the jaguar was interested enough in the goings on that it had momentarily forgotten its rage. She latched herself to a branch and clung, hoping it wouldn't notice her. Another knuckle across the back of her shoulders told her the hope had been in vain. But she was safe for now, and he was just glad she wasn't holding herself aloof. It was almost enough to send the weapon spitting and shrieking again, but there were more important things to worry about at the moment.

"_Ta me de_" Mal whispered. He'd been young then, just a stripling really, but everyone had heard of the ambushes eventually. "You mean to tell me…" he trailed off, shook his head, and tried again. "All that time he was a…"

"They'll come at you sideways. Sidle up and smile." She smiled for her Captain, bright and innocent. "It's how they move. How they think. Who better to know than a man who'd done the same?"

Paul was breathing curses now, slotting bits of information into place with his version of the whole picture. Captain Daddy's brain was only half operable, as he built and rebuilt his mental image of Derrial Book into something he could understand. She mourned what he would never know, and wrapped it a little tighter into that place where she hid secrets such as Jayne's. Or Wash's. Riddick prodded at her mind, an impatient presence that was more than a little put out at being the only person who didn't know what was going on. She pushed back with her own irritation at his anger. ::Told you,:: she muttered. ::Later.::

She didn't think the growl that filled his chest was meant to be audible, but he was bracing for something and she couldn't tell what. The jaguar, always the mediator, the one who aided in the majority of their communications, that was the side that was most furious with her now. It had been the man, at first. Angry that he was in the dark, wanting information. Then it had been the man and the animal. Now it was the jaguar. And considering the fact that the man was oftentimes the veneer that kept him from seeming entirely animal to those around him, she knew she was dealing with a majority vote. And that majority was keeping everything it could locked down and hidden from sight.

"Bigot," she spat. She didn't mean to, not out loud. But she was tired of it. Tired of whatever had had him on edge since they'd met Mal at the trailhead. Tired of the flashes of straightjackets that kept rising to the surface of the stream. Did he _want_ her to remember that time? Did he _need_ to keep rubbing her face in her own weaknesses?

Indrawn breaths from the others told her the last words had been out loud, but she was beyond caring. With a sound like a thousand knives all sliding together, the weapon slipped out of the stream and rose in front of the man on its banks. The girl scrambled out of the tree and through the spreading roots to take shelter in a notch that the jaguar couldn't fit itself into. Outside her hidey hole the animal growled in frustration and shoved anger and worry and hatred at anyone who'd notice. She picked up a rock and flung it in the animal's face. _Hwoon dahn_ thought she could be intimidated did he?

~HHYFN~

"I wouldn't." Mal kept his voice as calm as he could and his hands as far from his gun as possible without looking truly ridiculous. He had lived through a number of bad days. Topping the list was the one in which he'd been told to lay down arms and surrender to an enemy force he'd spent seven weeks holding out against. The rest of his Top Ten list was well populated, most of them having something to do with the man sitting in the chair not an arm's length from him.

Until twenty minutes ago though, he'd thought that this bad day would actually end up much further down the pile. Sure, he'd found his daughter with her face buried in a naked man's crotch. And his wife had mocked him for it. He'd even had to put up with the man, this Riddick character, snarling and glaring and generally acting as if River was no longer any of her father's concern. But in comparison to say, finding out Shadow had been bombed to dust. Or coming into Haven and discovering it had been razed. Or hell, even the initial discovery of the vid clip of Miranda. Compared to all those, he figured he could live with mortification, embarrassment, and nearly getting gutted by a man with a worse penchant for knives than Jayne had for guns. Now however, this day landed squarely in the number two slot of Worst Days Ever so far as he was concerned. And it just kept getting worse.

Hating himself as he did so, he reached out and laid a careful hand on the shoulder of the Operative. What he wanted to do was snap the man's neck. Or shoot him. Or use any number of long, painful, drawn out ways he knew to kill someone. But his greater concern at the moment lay with the pair just across from him. The violence in the air was akin to pulling the pin on a grenade and waiting as long as you could before throwing it. It was going to happen. The only question was who'd get hurt along the way.

He'd learned his lesson the other day, after this big _shiong-muh duh duang-ren _jumped the girl in the cargo bay and near tore the place to pieces to get to her. Inara'd been right. Gett'n twixt these two when they were all settled on a fight was signing up for the butcher's block. And as much as he wished he could let the piece of _go se_ sitting next to him stick his name on the list, his much withered conscience had gone and reared its head. River needed the man for something, and now that he knew who it was she'd been so desperate to hide from him, he had a fair guess of what she was after.

That and he figured he'd probably be next if the man went and got himself killed by a pair that couldn't seem to tell friend from foe when they were like this.

River didn't flinch when he threw the idea her way. He knew how, in theory. But right now her entire being was focused on the man looming behind her with one huge hand gripping her shoulder and the other halfway to one of those freakish blades of his. Just ruttin' perfect. There'd be blood for sure now.

"Captain," It was a question he didn't want to answer, especially not coming from this man.

Mal set his jaw, looked away, noticed the pair by the couch were moving, and tried to keep from watching. But River was rising to her feet, slow and sure as a cat. There was something in her eyes, a fire he'd only seen since she'd come back to the ship with this monster of a man. He didn't know if he should be relieved or scared of the fact that her hands were empty of weapons. He decided to be grateful that she was turning that anger filled glare on the man behind her, who'd crossed his arms and set his jaw and was undoubtedly glaring right back behind those goggles.

"Ain't got an explanation," he muttered back finally, watching River's shoulders tighten and her head drop like she was about to bull through something. "Best I can figure, somethin's set one or both off. Ain't gonna be safe till they get it outta their systems."

Something in the tilt of Riddick's head told him that the man wasn't as blind to his surroundings as he seemed. Mal held his breath, but nothing came of the head tick but a low growl from River. His insides froze at the sound, and he wondered if it had always been something she had in her, or if the man who claimed to be an animal had brought it out in her. He was afraid of the answer, either way. But most especially if it had been something his little girl had had inside her all along. Did he truly know her? Or had she changed so much from the child who'd popped out of that cryo box?

Whichever it was, she was a different creature now. Graceful as always, but with a deadly edge even Zoe didn't have. Stand her next to the man and together they made a pair that would make even the most bloodthirsty of mercs and freelancers give second thought to taking them on. And that was when they _weren't _lookin' at each other like they were trying to figure on the best place to bury a blade. Only the truly stupid would be lookin' to take them on at that point. As one of the formerly truly stupid, he spoke from experience. He blessed Inara and Zoe for having kept him from trying to break them up before.

The Operative, this Paul, didn't need that sort of help. Which was good, because he still had half a mind to let whatever happened to the man happen and then step over the cooling body on his way out of this _ta me da _monastery and away from all that it stood for.

They were easing away from the couch now. Over towards the door. If he had to take a guess, he'd say River was lookin for her way out. But Riddick was quicker than he looked, and had planted himself between her and the door, arms crossed over his chest. The growls were gone, replaced with an eerie silence filled only with minute head twitches and shifts of the shoulders. He'd known it was true. He'd _seen_ them do it before, the talking in their heads thing. But there was something about this, something he couldn't put his finger on. The veins were popping out on Riddick's skull, and River's fists were white knuckled.

Beside him, the Operative shifted again, and he put out a hand to block him without thinking about it. The look the other man gave him was puzzled, and he cut him off before he could ask the obvious. "She's a Reader, remember?" His voice was as soft as he could make it. It was the voice you used on skittish colts and stray dogs about to run. "Whatever they're argu'n about, best let them finish."

"Arguing?" The Operative's voice was a match for his own. "How are they-"

Riddick's head ticked again, and his lips pulled back in a snarl. Mal shushed the man next to him and held his breath.

River's shriek as it pierced the air was enough to shatter glass. Mal jumped, hands flying to his weapons of their own accord. But she wasn't attacking, not them. Riddick caught her by the shoulders as she launched herself at him, holding her out at arm's length as she scrabbled for a pinch point or nerve cluster she could reach. "Fuck River," he half shouted "How can you think that?"

She'd managed to get free by dint of going completely slack, slithering right out of his grip, and came up inside his guard with a shoulder to the solar plexus. His arms closed around her as the breath was knocked from his body, but she was gone again, dropped down and around and using the door behind him to push off and leap. She came down with an elbow aimed for the mass of muscle at the base of his neck, but he was turning to meet her and caught her in the stomach with one huge fist.

Mal almost pulled his gun at that point, but the tiny voice of common sense he usually ignored over ruled his instincts and he manage to keep himself still. A glance at the Operative revealed a very intent, very disturbing look on the man's face. Was he _studying _them?

He didn't get a chance to find out. He had to move, scrambling out of the way as River came flying tip over teakettle in their direction. She landed on the coffee table and slid off the other end, sending the coffee service that had been laid out there flying. Somehow she came up standing on the other side, and lost no time in picking up the nearest piece of shattered china and chucking it across the room. "Want someone dependent on you," she shrieked. "Don't know what to do with yourself otherwise!" Another piece of china went flying, and Mal ducked back down behind the nearest chair, cursing.

Riddick was moving around the chairs, past the coffee table, swatting the various bits of flying shrapnel out of the air as they were launched at him one by one. Mal kept his cover, ducking when the remains of a coffee cup ricocheted off the armrest by his shoulder. Next to him, Paul had brought out a blade as long as his forearm, a cousin to the one he'd nearly managed to impale Mal with several years ago. But he wasn't looking like he was about to throw himself into the middle of the fight, so they would hopefully be saved a bloodbath. As good as the man was, Mal didn't think he'd be able to stand up to the combined lunacy of these two.

They'd gone silent again, and the flinging of china had stopped. It only lasted a second, and then he heard Riddick speak, in a voice he didn't know the man was capable of until that moment. There was anger in it by the boatload, but it was curiously gentle. Like he was trying to calm a frightened animal. "What the fuck makes you think you're weak? You woulda never come out of it if you weren't strong. Never made it out of that _fucking_ room if you..."

Mal resisted turning around to see what was going on. It really wasn't something he should see. Besides, he was afraid that if he saw what they were doing he might have to shoot the man. Or wash his brain out with the strongest disinfectant he could find.

"How many voices you hear now? How much information's running through that brain of yours?" Apparently oblivious to the others, Riddick was still talking. River's voice was coming in short gasps, and the whimper that crept from her near broke her daddy's heart. No girl should be in that much pain. His hand on the gun tightened of its own volition and he had to force it to relax.

"I'm the one dependent River. Fucking told you that already. Woulda killed a hundred people by now and not known why, weren't for you keeping the animal sane. Keeping me myself. Remember?" A pause. "Still going to kill the fuck who stuck you in that jacket though."

Mal spun to stare at the Operative, who was rubbing at the bridge of his nose and frowning at his feet. Only one kind of jacket he could think of that would have that kind of effect on the girl. Riddick be damned, he was going to kill the man twice for this.

"No killing him!" River's voice was shrill, and she was hanging over the back of the chair to glare at her Captain before he knew what was happening. He glared back, unrepentant for his thoughts. She opened her mouth to say something else and was hauled back by one huge dark arm snaking around her shoulders.

"Words girl," the Riddick hissed in her ear as she shrieked in his mind while he pulled her away from her Captain. "Make me say them, no fair for you to keep things to yourself. "

She snarled and struggled, but he had her now, the other arm pinning her elbows to her sides and holding her away from any place she could gain leverage with her feet. Mal rose from his place behind the chair, the Operative half a beat behind. Riddick ignored them, focused on trying to draw the panic and anger from the girl's wild thoughts. He had the weapon pinned, and was trying to coax the waif out from under the tree roots. It helped, a bit, that he knew she was pissed at him for something almost entirely different than what he'd thought. Connected, but different.

"Asked for it," she hissed finally, with a backwards kick of the foot. "Told them to kill me. The girl is unpredictable, wild." The words had a different flavor than usual, and a glance and a quick shuffle through his own memories told him it was probably Mal's voice she was picking up on. The next words were something entirely different though, and both of the men in front of them flinched when she spoke. "Kills and doesn't know why."

"Not any more you don't," he growled in her ear. And it was truth as far as he was concerned. He shoved the knowledge her way; that except for a couple of very remarkable times, he'd never seen her fly off the handle and try and gut someone without good reason. And even then, as pissed as he'd been, he could see why. After all, hadn't he woken from cryo before ready to butcher everything in sight? There'd been nobody to stop him then. No one to help him regain his sanity.

He pushed the whole thing her way and had the satisfaction of seeing her resolve and anger waver. "Weren't for the fact you're so wrapped up in this idea that you're fucking weak, you'd be all sorts of sane." And then, because there were things he _wasn't _going to expose to strangers, because it was so hard for him to say in the first place that the man and the animal fought to a bloody standstill over the words, he switched back to their own special form of communication. ::Strongest person I've met, to come out of that. Ain't fuck'n weak.::

She thrashed again, weakly. ::Never, ever wanted you to see me that way. Then you brought it back to mind. Kept turning it over and over. Like a puzzle box to open. Where's the seam? Where's the key? The piece of the solid block that moves? She _was_ weak. Can't change facts.::

He snarled and dropped to the couch, pinning her ankles between his and snatching her fists up in one hand. She wasn't very hard, or in any danger of doing him injury. It was more to have the connection. A touch. Something familiar. The animal placed a large paw on the girl's chest to hold her down as the man pulled her gently from beneath the tree. He ignored the wonder and anger drifting off the other men in the room. He'd rather they weren't there. Fuck, he'd rather they were dead.

But he knew, somewhere deep in his gut, that if he didn't finish this than it would just sit there and fester, like a wound never cleaned and allowed to close over with all the grit and debris still stuck inside. It pissed him off, that things had gotten to this point. He was just about ready to say to hell with this system, to hell with these Blue Sun freaks, and take her off in a ship aimed somewhere very, very far away. Things had been a helluva lot easier when it was just the two of them on the _Hound_.

She caught the thought, not that he'd been hiding it all that well, and wet earth rose around him. The charcoal that had been plugging up his nasal passages ever since they'd started up the mountain was mostly gone, and he'd almost had the apples and rain back. Fuck it all anyways.

::Listen, :: he said as quietly as he could. ::Can't be strong till you know what weakness is. Can't show strength unless you're coming out of a place of weakness. :: Unspoken, because there weren't words for it, he shoved his anger that she thought he'd be so fickle and disgust at the idea she was weak in her direction. If she'd been weak, would she have held out against the insanity so long? Would she have been able to figure out what was wrong? Would she have been able to find help? If she was weak, how was it she could filter through all the minds that battered at her, even if it was just her crew that on a daily basis? ::Everyone's cracked at some point or another. Just a machine if you haven't. :: He shook her slightly, focusing everything he had on the feel of her body against his, her scent in his nose, her mind as it wove into his.

He needed it. The animal was too aware of their audience, muttering between themselves and about to come to a decision. It went against everything in it to show its back to a potential threat, and it was torn between pulling the girl back to them and turning to give the men watching something better to think about. ::Gave you words girl. Mortared them with blood. Poured foundations too. Think I'm gonna throw all that work away? Stupider than I thought.:: He laced his tone with derision and mockery and sure enough, it got a reaction. When all else failed, kicking over a scorpion nest was a good way to keep her on her toes.

Wet earth faded under the steel that flooded her scent, and she glared at him. ::Think he's the only one who's had to work? Who keeps him from losing his temper and killing the crew? Who drowns the anger when he's being a _ta me da_ asshole who's so caught up in the details that he doesn't look at the bigger picture?::

She was pissed all right. Good for her.

He managed to get out of the way of her skull as she flung it backward to try and break his nose, but couldn't dodge the elbow to the gut. Mal was muttering something about violent lunatics and did they have to pick fights when there were more important things to worry about, but Riddick was more interested in the cool water, massive quantities of steel, and apples and rain in the air to worry about the Captain.

Grinning down at River, he laughed. "Exactly."

The stunned look on her face was one he was going to treasure for a long time, and it was worth the kick in the shin she gave him as she squirmed her way out of his grip. Very much worth it. He grinned at her, showing all the teeth he could, and levered himself to his feet as apples and rain joined the steel swimming through the air and the girl in his head aimed a halfhearted punch at the man and animal both.

The click of a hammer being pulled back yanked him back to the present and he growled as he registered the change in positions of the other players in the room. Mal had the Operative backed up to the wall next to the door, and was growling something to the effect of "Keep your _wū _hands away from my daughter, you hear? Ain't a gorram experiment for you to play with."

Riddick shared the sentiment. He only wished he'd saved the Captain the trouble of a bullet and gotten to the man first before he'd done whatever it was that had set Mal off. Knives didn't need reloading after all. River on the other hand, didn't seem concerned at all. Her attention was drifting; she was keeping track of time, for some reason he couldn't fathom, and the last of her tension was bleeding into a worry about clocks and calling birds.

When he pushed for an explanation she flapped a hand his way. ::Find out soon enough. It runs and slips through the fingers after all.:: And then, all unexpected, she settled.

There were footsteps in the corridor outside, quick but not running. He waited, hoping they'd pass by. But they stopped just outside the door, and he could pick up a heartbeat. He didn't know if it was elevated or not, but it didn't seem much out of the normal baseline for a human heart rate.

Another push at River, and she grinned up at him. ::Captain Daddy's about to get brained.:: She sounded positively gleeful at the prospect, and he wondered why, even though he shared the feeling.

::Maybe it will knock some sense into him,:: she continued, just as whoever it was outside gave the door two quick raps and shoved it open.

Mal did indeed get brained as the edge of the door caught him in the forehead. The Operative, who hadn't been in the way of the leading edge of the thing, lunged forward and caught the gun in the Captain's hand before he could squeeze off a shot. River giggled and leaned backwards, forcing Riddick to catch her or let her slide into a heap at his feet. Grumbling and muttering at her in his head, he grabbed her by the shoulders and set her upright. ::All sorts of fucked up girl, you know that?::

She grinned back at him. ::And you like her best that way.::

"What in God's name is going on in here?"

The apples and rain died under the avalanche of charcoal and lemons, and the girl shot up the tree so fast he almost didn't know what had happened to her. The animal followed, and the man took up a defensive stance by the stream, side by side with the weapon. Standing in the door was a man only half familiar, and that second hand from River's memories. There'd been flashes of that face here and there, but he'd been more focused on Paul and then the straightjacket, and hadn't paid man much attention. Whipcord thin and just as strong, skin a medium shade of dark and clothes even darker. Metal gleamed in the light, and a cybernetic eye with fittings that matched those of the metal hand gripping the door handle roved over the people in the room. Wide cheekbones narrowed to a sharp jaw and a broad mouth was pressed into a firm line. Wet earth joined the charcoal, and Riddick decided in that moment to add whoever the fuck this was to his list of people he needed to kill when this was all over. Maybe even sooner. He'd just gotten her back to herself after all.

Nobody spoke for a moment as the man slipped inside the room, shut the door, and glared indiscriminately at them all. Finally River took half a step forward, hand outstretched, and croaked "Thomas," before her knees gave out and she crumpled in a heap on the floor.

**Author's Note: ** Sooo..think they're done prodding at each other? Nah. Neither do I. But there's bigger fish to fry at the moment. We'll come back to this later though, I promise ;)

I wanted to play with POV here, show a bit of everyone. We've spent so much time in River and Riddick's mind; I wanted to give a bit of the view from the outside. There may be hope for Mal yet, if he can keep his head on his shoulders and not fly off the handle every time Paul opens his mouth. I think Riddick's dropped a little on our Captain's list of people he hates.

Before you ask, no, River didn't see Thomas coming. He's a bit better at masking his presence from her. And she was very, very focused on Riddick and Paul and Mal there, up till the end. We'll be finding out a little more about him as time goes on. I needed a foil though. Someone who hadn't personally hurt the crew. Paul wasn't much of a surprise for anyone but Mal, but this new player is going to set things on end. As for his looks...think Tom Hiddleston, only with much darker skin. I love his evil grin

I am, btw, lifting Book's past from the comics. River's putting her own interpretation on it, but the events are not of my making.

As always, they aren't mine. Not!

And also, as always, thanks ever so for all the views, favs, comments, and follows. Love you much!

Rachet: So sorry. But you didn't have to read it right away! I nearly fell asleep editing it. I hope that doesn't mean it was boring. Or maybe I just not edit and post at midnight ;) I don't know if River pulled it together or not. This didn't go quite as badly as it could have. No blood after all ;P

Shenandoah76209: Ah Mal. He ticks you off and makes you love him, all at the same time. Silly man. As for Paul, he's gonna hafta learn to walk softly or his head's gonna go bye-bye. I don't know that Mal's going to be in a forgiving or listening mood when it comes to this man for a long time. We'll get more into Riddick's reasoning later. Right now I needed to play with River and her temper a bit.

Guineverekay: Ah. Mal. Never learned to knock. I honestly think he deserved that. And no. Not done torturing them by a long shot. But everyone needs a breath at some point. I think they're about due for one here. And I have fiery death planned. I do. Just a bit further down the line is all.

Translations:

huh choo-shang tza-jiao duh tzang-huos –animal fucking bastard

Gou tsaode-dog humping

Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze!-Son of a drooling whore and a monkey

Tian xiz shou you de ren dou gai si-Fuck everyone in the universe to death

Tah mah de-mother fucker

shiong-muh duh duang-ren- violent lunatic

go se –dog shit

Wū -dirty **/** filthy **/** foul **/** corrupt **/** to smear **/** to defile **/** dirt **/** filth


	39. Chapter 39

Ch. 39

_We are the sons of holy wrath,_

_A shining light in the dark_

_The ones who walk amongst despair,_

_No sign of fear in our hearts_

_Stand in death's way_

_Shut out the voice of mindlessness,_

_Open your eyes to the truth_

_Believe the words that stand the test_

_And not the slurs of the youth_

_You're not what they say_

"The Soldier's Song" Demon Hunter

There'd been a chopstick in his eye. A little thing of red and black lacquer, a sprig of flowers painted in gold on one end. Its mate had been driven through the throat of the girl lying next to him and blood pumped around it, and the oxygen flooding the iron bearing cells turned them such a bright crimson that the line of separation between weapon and body was all but erased. A knife had found the gap between ribs on another, and what showed of it was only enough for a small hand to grasp; the rest laying imbedded in the tough muscle tissue of the object known as a heart. Fear and panic had made that first blow strike all the harder and blunt edges hurt far worse going in than sharp. The serving girl, no more than sixteen and wearing only a thin cotton yukata against the heat, had died in immense pain. It was nothing on what had ripped through her attacker's mind when she picked up the blades.

It hadn't been a weapon then. It had been a tool, the exact tool she needed to spread the jam on her toast. The jam dish, an elegant little thing of cut crystal, had been cracked in half and used to cut open the throat of the girl by the table. Her eyes were clouded now, and it was impossible to tell what color her shirt had been. It was turning a rusty red though, and starting to smell like copper. It was a more merciful way to die than what had awaited the last occupant of the room. Face like raw meat, hands and arms flayed, it was as if someone had whipped her with razors. It had been another knife, stolen from the man with the chopstick in his eye. And it had taken much less time to inflict than it had for the girl to die of shock and blood loss.

The man with the chopstick had managed to activate a distress call, but when the reinforcements arrived, they found only a girl covered from head to toe in sticky redness, keening and scrabbling among the dead. She was muttering about shrapnel and picking up the pieces in between deep sobbing breaths. They hit her with a sedative from across the room and waited a solid ten minutes before taking the chance of coming in range of her. Large arms held her, one to a limb, and they carried her from the room splayed as if for whipping. None of them were armed, the tranq gun had been discarded back in the room, and the med team stood well away until the girl and her captors passed them by. No one wanted to chance a repeat after all.

Riddick yanked himself out the memories by sheer force of will, looking for the shore and the tree and the cave beyond. Once he had a firm grip on reality he reached back for the girl and yanked her from the rush of the river. They both swayed on their feet, looking for gravity and fighting it all at the same time. Sounds came back first, men's voices arguing and the hushed whispers of people trying to yell as quietly as they could. Then came the scents. Rage, frustration, confusion and resignation were overlaid by apples and rain, wet earth, bitter herbs and a significant amount of charcoal. It made sense really, once he regained his nerve endings and found himself done on one knee behind a small body, one arm wrapped around her shoulders and the other around her waist.

Something shifted in his head, and he looked up to find a young woman, almost childlike, curled against the stomach of a huge black jaguar. The animal had nearly engulfed her as it wrapped itself around her, and together they lay among the roots of a huge jungle tree, a stream running swiftly nearby.

The girl in his arms whimpered, and it must have been with her voice, because all the arguing stopped and he felt the attention of the others in the room like prey must feel the attention of the hunter. He growled, low in his throat. He was not prey. And neither was the girl. Never would be either.

"River," the voice was unfamiliar. And familiar. Something about it echoed through the animal's mind, but he couldn't place it. It came from the dark places, and some of the light, that surrounded her time here. He could hear someone kneeling close by. He had a moment to wonder why he hadn't opened his eyes, but he had a sinking feeling that he'd be seeing that pile of bodies. That the man speaking to them would still have that chopstick in his eye. The thought shook him a little further out of the haze that surrounded him. He'd killed people with teacups after all. What was a chopstick in comparison to that, except for good use of the potential weaponry?

"River child," that voice again. Soft and understanding. It's owner took a careful breath when he growled again, then continued. "Open your eyes. I'm perfectly fine."

She shook her head franticly. Riddick on the other hand, did open his eyes. The newest member of their little group was on his knees in front of them, one hand outstretched for River's face. It was the one covered in skin, not metal, and she twitched slightly as the man slid a knuckle under her chin and gently pulled her head up. Riddick's growl deepened, but the animal didn't want to let go of the girl just to swat at someone else. Something deep inside was telling it that this was a man to be trusted. Something, he suspected, that was once again rooted in the fucking borrowed memories. But if she knew him, why had she been so surprised to see him?

No time for that. River had relaxed in his arms and sighed and he knew she'd opened her eyes.

"See? Just fine."

She twisted in Riddick's mind, he felt her draw breath to speak, and without knowing why, leaned down to let the growl out in her ear ::No chopsticks.:: he muttered. ::He's up and moving. And we've got shit to do. Get yourself together girl.::

She stiffened, tried to elbow him in the gut, and he laughed as he stood, pulling her along with him. The stranger, Thomas, eyed the pair of them for a second before turning back to the others by the door. Mal was still holding his head, glaring at all and sundry through his one good eye. Paul was rubbing at his shoulder, and watching Mal as if he expected the man to reach for his gun and start shooting at random. Riddick wondered why they'd let him have the piece back in the first place, all things considered. Man wouldn't know subtle if it reached up and bit him in the ass.

::And you do?:: Her voice was full of venom, but she hadn't unwound from the animal, so she couldn't have been too angry.

He gave her a mental laugh. ::That's my girl. Stay pissed off. It's always more fun that way.::

She swatted at him, and he could feel her contemplating which bit of him she'd try cutting off next, but the apples and rain deepened to cover the charcoal.

"Now," Thomas had crossed his arms and was giving them all a look that said they were being children. "What is going on here? There is very little time left before the dampener is noticed. I hope that it will not be wasted in another physical altercation." His eyes were on Mal, looking mulish and fingering his gun. Riddick would have laughed if he hadn't known what River was about to do.

"That was me," the girl muttered, pulling out of his grip and dusting herself off. "Captain Daddy only _wishes_ he'd been the one to attack."

A raised eyebrow met that statement, and the man turned his attention away from the Captain. "Ah. And what brings you here? I expect it was not to destroy a coffee service that has been property of this monastery for nearly four hundred years. Or to create general havoc. Although I'll admit you are very good at it."

Riddick lifted a lip in a snarl before the wry humor of the man's tone fully registered. River reached behind her to pat him on the leg, sending amusement and resignation at him through the bond. Before she could answer, the man continued, eyeing the Captain like he was a piece of dirt someone had forgotten to sweep up. "And your…Captain Daddy that you've brought with you? He certainly looks as if he can create his fair share of mayhem."

Paul stepped forward then, but River shook her head at him. When Mal opened his mouth, he ended up on the receiving end of a set of glares that would have set him afire if it were at all possible. Thomas looked from the girl to the others and his lips twitched.

Riddick just gave a mental snort and prod in the direction of the girl, who had yet to unwind from the animal. ::Your show. Your plan. Let's get this over with already.::

"The girl has a request for aid. Must find a lost thing. A sister." She leaned back until she was almost flush against him and he fought the natural reaction to having her body pressed up against his. Now wasn't the time. She twitched in his head, but pretended she didn't feel the small war he was on the verge of losing. Little witch. "His sister," she continued. "Blue Sun has her."

The eyebrow again. A surprised look from Paul. And a glare from Mal. Par for the course on all sides he figured. "And this would be?" Thomas trailed off and looked up at Riddick for the first time since he'd come in.

The Furyan wasn't fooled. This man had known where everyone in the room was at all times, and if there had been any sort of threat from him, he had no doubt that the man was fully prepared to take him on. ::Odd sort of holy men you have here girl,:: he muttered before switching back to his actual voice. "Richard B. Riddick. Escaped convict. Murderer. Lord Marshall." He pulled his lips up into a smirk and snaked one arm around River's shoulders and neck. "Match."

She gave an amused huff in his mind and prodded the animal in the side, but didn't complain. He didn't care. It had been more for her than for any reaction from the strangers. A reminder that she couldn't be rid of him, and he wasn't willing to be rid of her. She settled as he let that thought drift to the surface, and her edge of mockery died into something more thoughtful.

He hadn't been looking for a real reaction to the Match comment, but he got one. Or he thought it was to the part about being a match, because as soon as the word left his mouth the two stiffened and looked at each other, then back at River. Mal was scowling and muttering about ruttin' lunatics and how they should really be paying more attention to the Murderer part of the introduction than they should the bit at the end. He was ignored in a general sort of way, and Riddick could smell the anger as it rose from the man. He almost laughed.

Thomas and Paul were watching him carefully though, and he saw their throats working as they almost spoke, thought better of it, and looked back at each other. Whatever they were thinking, River wasn't sharing with him. She seemed almost confused by it, and when he prodded for more information all she did was twist around to look up at him with huge dark eyes. He frowned, but his mental questioning was cut off by actual voices. He almost growled again at the interruption. She elbowed him in the side.

"Well," Thomas was saying. "You wouldn't be here if it weren't important." Turning on his heel, he looked over at Mal and Paul. "Gather your people. I'll go ready Mik-lat for visitors." Eyes on Mal, he frowned. "Where did you leave your transportation Captain Reynolds?"

Mal stiffened in shock, his mouth flopped open, and he managed to croak. "Market near House Madrassa. Who the hell-"

Thomas nodded shortly and headed for the door. "Very good." He had a hand on the door handle when he turned back to look at Paul. "Try not to let them kill you. It would be most embarrassing." And with that, he was gone.

There was a moment's pause, and Mal found his voice. "What the ruttin' hell is going on here," he growled, and the tone said that someone had better explain, and quickly, or he'd stop debating on whether to pull his gun.

River glanced up at Riddick, then over at Paul, who shrugged and made a "your mess, clean it up" face at her. Riddick agreed. He was starting to want to kill the man again, and wasn't interested in getting the blame for anything that was about to happen. River gifted him with the _look_ and he glared back, unfazed. But she didn't complain when he dropped his arms back to his sides, instead stepping forward to face her father directly. "They helped her," she said. "When no one else would listen, Paul came for her and took her to sanctuary, so she could put her mind back together…" she trailed off and shrugged, but it was cool water and steel coming off of her, not anything indicative of trouble. Her grip on the jaguar loosened slightly as she transferred more of her focus from it to Mal. "Told her when she went back to _Serenity_ that if she ever needed help she was to return."

"River, he killed our friends," Mal ground out, fists clenched and jaw set. "He killed Book." He was a man fighting the inevitable and he knew it. All he had left was stubbornness and rage.

"And I will be paying penance for it the rest of my days Captain." Paul's voice was soft, and Riddick tilted his head to get a better look at the man. He looked saddened, but his scent was unreadable. This was definitely a man to watch. "However, Thomas was right. We have little time left to debate. The dampeners on this room will have to be shut off soon, lest the wrong people get the right idea. We must leave. Now preferably."

River took the last step needed to bring her in reach of Mal and laid her hands on either side of his face. Riddick couldn't see her expression, but he didn't need to. She was steeling herself for the ultimatum, the final threat. After this, they'd be going forward, their course set. It was going to be up to Mal to see which way he'd go. The ex-convict tried not to hope too hard that he'd decide to leave them in peace and go back to his precious ship. He was having enough trouble resigning himself to working with Paul. He wasn't looking forward to a hard-nosed judgmental prick butting in and trying to dictate terms.

"Time to choose Captain Daddy," she murmured. "Last chance. Do you trust the girl? The girl who is a woman grown now and attempting to take responsibility for her mistakes? Or will Pride and Wrath decide you." She tilted her head and he could smell salt tears as wet earth crept up his nose. "Know she will always love her Daddy, man who took her in when she was broken as broken can be. But this _must_ be done. _Duǒ__bu__qǐ__ ._"

The room was silent but for breath and heartbeat as they all waited for the answer. Riddick could feel her, drawing deeper into his mind and cutting herself off as much as she could from Malcom's. The Captain's heart beast faster and faster and he held the air in his lungs as he fought his way to a decision. Riddick watched the muscles in the man's jaw work as he clenched his teeth together.

Finally, with an explosive exhale that smelled of regret and sadness and determination, the man placed his hands on the shoulders of his daughter and gave her a wry grin. "What kinda father, what kinda Captain would I be if I let my daughter run off on a suicide mission with only some big _hwoon dahn_ to keep her out of trouble?

Joy poured off of her in waves, washing over man and animal alike as the girl threw her arms around her Captain. Riddick grumbled, but kept it inside. He was never getting rid of them now. Might as well learn to live with it. He knew he hadn't hid the thought as well as he might have when River giggled and dropped a twig on the head of the man. Crazy little witch.

~HHYFN~

Inara was _not_ pleased. Not in the least. When her husband had waved her, she'd expected bad things, just based on his thinned lips and hard eyes. His voice had been flat, as it always was when he was truly angry. But never in a million years would she have expected to emerge from the gates at the base of House Madrassa's hill and find him waiting alongside one of the few men in the 'Verse that she knew he loathed without reservation. That he looked even less happy about it than when he'd told her where to meet him was a small consolation. That Riddick was angled to place himself between the Operative and River didn't help matters at all.

She stood there and fought down her own helpless rage as the memories of Haven danced before her eyes. It wasn't until River came forward and removed her small pistol from her fingers that she realized she'd drawn and leveled it at the man who'd brought so much pain to her family. She resisted the girl; until Riddick rumbled something she couldn't make out and placed his wide bulk into the line of fire. Everything in his body language spoke of frustration and resignation, and the Companion had no doubt that he was even less happy with things than either Mal or herself. Why she had no clue, something must have happened between morning and the present time. But if he was still willing to take a bullet, their need for the _gou tsao de, huh choo-shang tza-jiao duh tzang-huo_ must indeed be great.

Biting her lip on all the questions that threatened to pour from her, starting with "Why in the name of everything holy is that man _here_," continuing on through "You aren't really planning to bring him aboard _Serenity_" and landing somewhere in the realm of "Does he realize he's a dead man the minute you two stop protecting him," Inara holstered her gun underneath a fold of her dress and transferred her glare to River. The girl flinched, and her shoulders tightened, but her jaw was set and her eyes just as hard as Mal's. There was nothing for it. Obviously she'd talked the Captain around; if she'd managed that then there was no going back. She only hoped they could be rid of him quickly. It was sacrilege, to let him anywhere near their ship.

The trip through the market was quick. The rains had let up sometime around noon, and gray light filtered through the clouds. People milled and mingled, and of the battle with the gang members only a dim red stain on the pavement remained. Even that would soon be gone under the influence of the rains and the feet wearing away at it. Nothing had come of the altercation, a thing she hadn't understood until the House Priestess had pulled her aside that morning after the others had gone and explained. The authorities had better things to do than worry about a gang that picked a fight with the wrong people. Unrest was growing in some of the ethnic sectors around the planet, and the people of the city had largely been left to fend for themselves when it came to law breaking and lawbreakers. That the gang been a plague on the Training House went unspoken, but the pouch of coin pressed into her palm had made things clear.

Mal handed her into the shuttle first, then entered without waiting for the others. She heard scraping boots and mutters as the others came in behind her, but the hand at her back was implacable and she decided it was best not to argue as her husband steered her into the copilot's chair. That in and of itself was unusual. He usually had River fly with him if she came at all, and the fact that he wasn't giving the girl the option spoke for how angry he must be with his _yǎng__nǚ_. A peek at the rear of the cabin gave her a second option.

River and Riddick had arranged themselves to bracket the Operative, who still hadn't spoken a word. Riddick was closest to the nose of the little craft, and the look he gave her when she glanced back told her all she needed to know. River may trust the man, but the self-proclaimed murderer wasn't taking any chances. Not for the last time she wondered what must have happened to put the man's back up, and the look River shot her snapped her mouth shut on the question before she could even decide to ask. Riddick's lips twitched and she shook her head. She'd never get used to watching those two talk between themselves.

A few terse words with Zoe where she waited on the ship, and they were off. The flight was quiet, and the air fogged with tension and unspoken hatred. Inara made the conscious decision to keep her eyes forward; bar the glances she shared with Mal as he wove his way through the low level traffic and back to the docks. Several time she almost opened her mount to demand an explanation, but the look on her husband's face hadn't changed a wit, and in the end she decided it was probably just as well. Given the events of the past week or so, it was better to get all the drama and possibility of painful death out of the way at once. A titter further back in the cabin and the answering snort from Riddick reminded her that her thoughts weren't private, and she endeavored to think on inconsequentials until they landed.

River was first off, having been closest to the hatch when they finally locked _Serenity._ Riddick held the Operative in place with one large hand on the chest, only allowing him to stand so the others could inch past and out onto the catwalk. Inara winced at the barrage of questions from her crewmates where they waited down on the main deck. She winced again as Sierra came barreling down the stairs from the bridge. Riddick was right. The girl had no sense of self preservation. How were they going to keep her safe in this new course of action anyways? The question had hovered at the back of her mind, but the finality in Mal's eyes meant that he'd reached a decision of some sort. And now, with Kaylee pregnant, how were they going to get the ship repaired enough to fly off into whatever it was River was dragging them into?

Again.  
The girl in question flinched perceptibly, and turned haunted eyes back to meet those of the Companion. Guilt washed over the woman, and she wished she could take it back. But it was also undeniably true. The girl had a talent for getting into the strangest kinds of trouble.

A low rumble behind her reminded her that there were still two more people who needed to exit the shuttle, and she moved over as far as she could, snagging Sierra in the process. The little girl complained at first, but her attention was soon fixed on the man who'd just stepped out of the shadows and into the light of the bay. As was the attention of everyone else in the big echoing room. Inara bit back a sigh and refrained from asking herself if the day could get any worse.

Too late

The distinctive sliding ratchet of a lever action announced Zoe's arrival. The Operative looked up towards the sound, and Inara wondered if something in the man was broken. He didn't seem at all perturbed by the fact that there was a woman twenty feet away from him with a gun leveled at his head. Make that fifteen. She was coming closer, undoubtedly so she could get to the point where she wouldn't have to shoot over her daughter or Inara's heads. The Companion was grateful for that consideration, worried about River's reaction, and almost hopeful that the first mate would accomplish her goal before someone stopped her.

Riddick appeared in the hatch behind the Operative, and with a non-too-gentle shove he got the man far enough out of his way so that he could swing his bulk down to the catwalk and place himself between Zoe and the other man. He didn't do any more than that, just stood there, hand at his sides and gun barrel touching his chest.

A moment. Another.

Zoe cracked. "Get out of the way Riddick."

He crossed his arms and scowled. Over by Mal, River started to step forward, and then turned to glare up at her Captain. He glared right back.

"What the gorram hell is goin' on?" Jayne was the first to find his voice, and it rang through the cargo bay. "Mal, what the ruttin' hell is he doin' on this boat?!"

"He," River snarled down at Jayne and flung a hand in the Operative's direction, "is going to help Riddick and the girl find the lost _mei mei._ And to do that, _we_ need to be leaving. Kaylee," her voice was all business now. "Is the engine room ready?"

The mechanic stammered and looked from her Captain to the Operative to River and back. Simon had gone stiff, and his skin was so pale he might have been mistaken for a ghost. Jayne had trailed off into a rant that was mostly composed of Chinese curses and started up the stairs from the main deck, looking for the entire world like he'd rather punch the man than shoot him.

"_Bi zuie_!" Mal's voice cut above the mutters and complaints. "Enough! Decision's been made. Now," he turned to glare at River. "You get on up to the bridge 'Tross. Get us wherever we're goin'. But," he leaned down to glare at her eye to eye. "You owe us. Owe alla us a reasonin' on this, _dong ma_?"

The girl scowled but nodded.

It was only after she'd inched past him, then the Operative, then Riddick and Zoe that the unnamed man spoke for the first time. "You'll need directions River," he said, taking half a step after her. The crew as a whole tensed. River turned and gave the man a poisonous look, opened her mouth, and was overridden by Mal.

"You ain't goin' anywhere near the bridge. She can pull it outta your head same she does everything else."

River twitched, her face going flat, and Inara sighed inside. Sometimes that man had the sensitivity of a wooden post. It was obvious she still wasn't over whatever had happened that day, and having her face rubbed in her general inability to block people out wasn't going to be helping. But the young woman didn't say anything, just cast a glance over the crew as a whole, let her eyes settle on Riddick for a moment, and headed up the stairs to the upper deck. A moment's pause and a hand on Zoe's shoulder while he muttered something in her ear and the big man followed the girl.

Inara didn't have time to wonder at the oddness of it. River's voice was coming over the ship wide, telling Kaylee to get to the engine room. Zoe was fingering her gun and looking like death warmed over; and Simon and Jayne were yelling protests at Mal. She shook her head when her husband snapped at them all, told the Operative to get his worthless hide down to the main deck and Jayne to make sure he _stayed _there.

The man in questioned obeyed, and the crew drew away from him like oil away from water as he made his way past them and down the stairs. Mal stopped to talk briefly with Zoe, a muttered argument that was more intense than Inara had ever seen out of the pair. She couldn't blame the first mate. She almost wished Riddick hadn't placed himself in the way of the gun. But she heard the engine spinning up, and _Serenity_ was coming to life, and there was really nothing for it now. Mal had cast his die, and as he was so fond of saying, the ship was not the town hall. She could only pray that whatever River was leading them into, they'd be rid of this man soon.

Mal returned just as they lifted off, scowling and muttering about Readers and the crazy _go se_ they talked him into. It only took a moment of them being in the air for her husband to freeze and shoot an incredulous look up towards the bridge. After a second Inara felt it too. She stepped forward to lay a hand on Mal's arm, needing reassurance from him in a way that never worked while he was being fully the Captain, but sometimes worked when he was himself. He looked down at her, mouth set in a grim line, then sighed explosively and pinched the bridge of his nose. Inara dredged up a smile for him somewhere. "What did you say to her Mal, that she's not flying?"

His face grew harder, and she was able to take a guess. When she opened her mouth again though, he shook his head. A glance down, where the Operative sat on a crate, eyes closed and looking for the entire world like he was sleep, told her all she needed to know. It was a relief, to know that they might have an advantage on this man. If he didn't know about River's bond with Riddick, it was possible that could play in their favor. Nodding slightly, she rested her forehead briefly against her husband's shoulder before straightening and declaring that she was going to go find some tea. The atmosphere in the room was, after all, oppressive. His fingers trailed down her arm as she passed him, and he squeezed her hand once before turning back to the tableau below him and his role as a Captain.

~HHYFN~

Their landing was surprisingly gentle, and Inara wondered if it was all Riddick or pair working in tandem. No matter. The flight had been short enough, all things considered; although there seemed to have been an excessive number of turns. And bar the Operative still being held in the cargo bay, it had been almost entirely without excitement. Kaylee was muttering about bearings and primary artery functions and lists, but she smiled when the Companion wrapped an arm around her shoulders and asked if she was ok.

"Just shiny, 'Nara," she replied. "But I hope there's not too much excitement in this old girl's future. She's startin' to shake somethin' aweful."

Inara rolled her eyes. She'd meant the girl herself, and her pregnancy, not the ship. Trust Kaylee to have her priorities in order.

The bay doors opened onto dry heat, radiating up from the pavement in lieu of the sun. Dust drifted through the air, particles catching the running lights of the various ships and the wheeled work lights scattered around the docks. Metal clanged against metal, voices shouted in several different languages, and people were moving everywhere like an anthill had been kicked over.

A thud announced River's arrival as she abandoned the stairs altogether and landed on the catwalk in a crouch. Riddick at least pretended the railed and steps were there for a reason, and took the stairs in three large jumps. Inara shook her head and decided to leave them be as River cast a wry look over her shoulder at the man. It had the appearance of a joke, or a challenge. She couldn't tell which by the smirk on the man's face. However they chose to relieve the tension between them was none of her business. She had enough to worry about with Mal looking like thunder and Zoe still holding onto that mare's leg of hers like a lifeline.

After much grumbling and muttering and threats of leaving people behind to fend for themselves, Mal and River got the crew rounded up and the Operative out in front. The guns had been put away, but the Reader and her man flanking him should be threat enough if he decided to try anything untoward. Not that Inara really believed he'd make a break for it. Or that he'd try to attack. There'd been plenty of time for that already, and he never had seemed to be a man who put himself in the thick of a fight unless there was no other option.

She decided that made him a coward, and scowled at the grey clothed back as he led them amongst the ships, cargo loaders, and general chaos towards the warm cliff walls that formed the back of the docks. She took a couple glances to the left and right, and found only more ships, more workers. As far as the eye could see, there were docks. And not like Eavesdown either. These were all business, no riff raff or street vendors, no barkers or pick pockets. She found herself missing Persephone, missing the chaos of the Rimworld markets. Coreborn and bred she may be, but she no longer belonged here. Not even among the worker bees that were so much higher up the sophistication ladder than those the crew regularly dealt with.

Her musings were cut off as they stepped into the shade of the cliff, all hung with ad boards and strung with cables and elevator gear. The bypassed it all, heading for a large freight elevator, boxed in with metal and looking about as beaten as a thing could. It was plenty large enough to fit them all, but upon entering and hearing the doors close behind them, she realized that the buttons on the inside were dark. A moment, in which the others noticed the same thing, and then the back of the elevator opened. Right. Freight elevators. Two sets of doors. But hadn't this one been set right against the cliff face?

A rush of stale air answered the question, and River gave the Companion a look over her shoulder that the woman couldn't read. Mal cursed softly as they stared down the dark tunnel before them. Jayne let out a quiet "Aw hell no."

Riddick chuckled and turned around to look at the gun hand. "Afraid of the dark Jayne?"

Jayne opened his mouth, and Inara knew that whatever was about to fall out of it wasn't going to be good. Mal elbowed him in the side at the same time River's boot came down on the man's foot, and he grunted at the double assault. "Gorramit you two, what the ruttin' hell's your problem. Want us to go down inta the pitch black with _him_?" He jerked a thumb at the Operative, who was watching them all with assessing eyes. He still hadn't spoken. And he didn't. Instead he reached past River and touched a panel on the wall of the tunnel. Lights flickered on, dim but still there, and he gave Jayne a look very like one of River's. It made Inara shudder.

"This is the way to Mik-lat," River said, scowling up at the gun hand. "You want to deny Sanctuary, go back to the ship and your skin mags." So saying, she turned on her heel and stalked off.

Inara sighed. She knew what Jayne was going to do. It was the same thing that they were all going to do. Follow her. They were in too deep, with too many unanswered questions, to do anything else after all.

**Author's Note**: Well…River's not winning any points now is she? Wonder how long things will hold out before someone snaps.

I figured we could use a change in perspective here. I've spent so much time wrapped up in our fearsome Duo's minds for the past few chapters (barring the brief foray into Mal's subconscious) that I figured we needed to see how the crew too this revelation with a fresh set of eyes.

I've been reading old chapters as I go, somewhere around 19 right now. Mal has…changed since I first started writing this. He's gotten harder, and a little more volatile. He _was_ fairly understanding of River when she first came back aboard. But I think Riddick and the increasing levels of trouble River's getting them into are wearing away at that. I hope I can keep him in character as I go. He was good with the inside in some eps (Trash), and could be incredibly bullheaded in others. Warn me if I start dragging him too far off the deep end.

Other than that…Mik-lat is a loose (and probably bad on my part) translation of Sanctuary. I'm working out of the wiki info here, and the Israeli Enclave has the only full-fledged starport on the planet. Guess where I've landed them? Not sure yet if we'll get to see anything of the city. But when you think of this place, think the Middle East.

Shenandoah76209: Glad you liked it! And yeah, River gets it. But her fit was partially my fit. I've been writing Riddick as the strength, the anchor, for a very large part of this story. And me, I'd start wanting to be able stand on my own two feet. To not need someone to yank me back to sanity. So she's right in a way, but so is he. The bond ties them together. And while he's not necessarily so dependent on keeping sane as she is, she still settles something in him that, if she wasn't around, might send him right back to the way he was in the first chap.

Rachet: So glad it wasn't boring. I'm trying to keep things moving. Every time I think I can cut down on the word count, I remember I haven't mentioned something about scent, or mind reading, or the tree and the stream in Riddick's head. And there goes the word count again. I like that line too. We'll just have to see though, where Mal lands in regards to that question.

Translaitons  
_Du__ǒ __bu__q__ǐ__-_Can't avoid **/** can't hide from **/** unavoidable

_hwoon dahn-_ Bastard

_gou tsao de, huh choo-shang tza-jiao duh tzang-huo_ -Engage in a feces hurling contest with a monkey

_y__ǎ__ng__n__ǚ__-_Adopted daughter

_Bi zuie-_Shut up

_dong ma-_Understand

_go se_ –Dog shit

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Lilac: mischief

Forward/bow-Front

Aft-Rear/back

Port-Left as facing forward

Starboard-Right as facing forward

Head-Toilet/bathroom, etc

Galley-Kitchen

Hatch-Doorway

Bulkhead- Walls.

Slip/berth: Place to dock a boat, designated parking.

Port control: the people telling you where to dock, etc

Hull-Outer shell of the boat/ship/whatever. Don't breach this.** Fiery death!**


	40. Chapter 40

Ch. 40

_Come away little lamb _

_Come away to the water_

_Give yourself so we might live anew _

_Come away little lamb_

_Come away to the slaughter _

_To the ones appointed to see this through _

_We are calling for you_

_We are coming for you_

"Come Away to the Water" Maroon 5

The tunnel wasn't very long, and the way was clear. Nevertheless, Inara felt a tiny bit better when Mal took up station next to her, with Zoe just behind. A glance back revealed that Kaylee and Simon were holding tightly to each other's hands, with Sierra propped up on the mechanic's hip and staring wide eyed around her. Jayne took up the rear guard, scowling at everything in general and fingering the gun at his side. Ahead, the Operative paced quietly, Riddick in front and River behind. The tunnel was too narrow for three abreast or she knew that the big man wouldn't have given their enemy his back.

But she also knew, just from his body language, that there was no way he'd let River take the lead and the implied danger of his position. Interesting that. He hadn't batted an eye at Jayne's familiarity with River or the way the gun hand checked up on her every now and then. But something about the Operative was setting him off, putting lines of tension into his shoulders and hands. And when she'd seen him look at River it was with the same look Mal got when he thought she herself was about to do something spectacularly ill advised. Coming from Mal that meant it was a very bad idea indeed. She still didn't have a baseline to judge Riddick though.

And then they were coming to an end of artificial light and into bright moonlight. The skies above were mostly clear, just a few wisps of clouds visible through the crack that started in the ceiling and gradually widened until they stood in open air. The space around them was roughly bowl shaped, a door at the opposite side and man standing at parade rest in front of it. His skin was a warm brown of a medium shade, possibly of Middle Eastern descent mixed with old North African. It was all he'd gotten from that part of his background. There must have been some Caucasian in there, because the skeletal structure under his skin didn't match either of the other two ancestries. Narrow chin, wide mouth, one deep set eye, one cybernetic web of metal under a broad forehead. Inara had the sinking feeling that if this man were to smile; he'd look like a grinning skull. The look and the quirked eyebrow River gave her over one shoulder didn't help the impression any.

"Now who the hell is this," Jayne muttered as he emerged from the tunnel. "Thought we were goin' someplace called Mik-lat."

"This is Mik-lat," the new man said. "Or at least the doorway to it. Beyond this point, security reigns supreme. If you wish to return to your ship, you may. But you may not come _back_ to this door for a full twenty four hours. _Dong ma_? We have taken great pains to keep this place secret. The fact that we are opening it at all," he paused and gave River a strange look, to which she straightened her shoulders and raised her head. "Means that things are very dire indeed." He looked back to the group before him. "Now. Is there anyone who wishes to turn back?"

Feet shuffled and nobody looked at each other except for glances out of the corners of their eyes. Finally Mal grumbled and stepped forward. "We're here now. Might as well see this thing through."

The man nodded and turned to palm a keypad set into the rock next to the door. Then he did something else with his other hand, which she noticed was gloved in metal, something small and unseen; and with a scrape and a hiss of metal on metal, it slid open. It was another tunnel, little better lit than the last. Blue track lights along the ground showed the path, but there was nothing at head height or above. Inara shuddered once and glanced over at her husband. It was starting to come together now, the sort of people they'd found themselves with.

She wondered if Mal knew. He'd never spent much time on the Core, and viewed the folk who lived on the Central Planets as all the same. A glance back at Simon told her that he at least had some idea of what this place might be. It figured. After all, you couldn't go hunting for a sister held by a secret lab without getting involved in the dark and dirty side of things. She'd long had the suspicion that he'd done far more than bribe people to get River back. The set of his jaw and the speculation in his eyes just served as more proof.

A tug on her elbow turned her around. Zoe was giving her a look, a look that told the Companion all she needed to know as far as the first mate's impressions of the place. The woman was deeply shaken, and had taken refuge in her anger to give her the backbone needed. She'd carried that look for a long while after Miranda and the broadwave, but Inara hadn't seen it in quite some time and it saddened her to have to face it now. She wasn't a Reader, but long association with her little adoptive family told her that Zoe was asking a lot of the same questions she herself still had turning over in her mind.

For a moment the Companion wondered if this would be the woman's breaking point, where loyalty was left at the door and personal interest came to the forefront. She wouldn't be surprised if it was. If it hadn't been for River's fits over the subject of the Kyra girl and the look on Riddick's face when the young woman had tried to make him understand why she was panicking; she'd have turned right back around and decided to chance _Serenity's_ increasingly erratic engine in the Black rather than step foot in this place.

But she_ had_ seen the look on the man's face, just as she'd come up to the bridge with her head pounding and blood trickling down her temple. Time had only amplified the memory, now that she'd had a chance to observe and get to know him a little better. The horror, total and absolute, that had etched his features had been a puzzle at the time. Now, having seen that very little shook him and the ease with which he claimed to be a murderer, she had to wonder. What had River told him? What had the girl seen that drove her back to a man who'd hunted her across the 'Verse and killed so many of their friends?

How did she even know he'd help?

Zoe nodded, one of those silent confirmations that the two women held between themselves when they were working to manage their Captain, husband, and friend. Whatever was about to happen, the woman was ready to get them out, cover the rear, and hopefully put a bullet between the eyes of this man she hated so much. Inara wished she felt less comforted by it, but years out in the Black had taught her that things were rarely as simple and clean as the Alliance would wish people to believe.

The second tunnel ended abruptly, spilling them out into a long narrow space with uneven walls and track lights set into the ceiling. Inara realized it was a cave, unfinished and raw. A long table of dark wood sat in the center of the room, and there were doors spaced sporadically between tall up and down slits of light that she realized came from more bulbs, set deep into fissures in the walls. There was food on the table, real food and not protein, and she could see Kaylee's resolve begin to waver in the face of fresh oranges and real carrots. The crew stood there, uncertain and looking at each other, till the man got done with whatever he was doing at the panel near the door. Inara watched him as surreptitiously as she could, but his body was angled to cover his motions.

Once he'd straightened he turned, seemed to notice that they were still standing behind him, and shook his head. "Please. Have a seat. Help yourselves. I fear it will be a long night."

River grabbed Riddick by the hand and tugged him over to the table, head tilted and jaw set. The man quirked his lips and tipped his chin up to the ceiling, a gesture which earned him a glare and an extra shove in the direction of one of the chairs. Inara shuddered internally. She'd never get used to that. Looking to Mal, she realized he was the only one of the crew _not_ watching the pair.

"I'm thinkin' not," he snapped. "Seems you all owe us an explanation as to why we're out in the back of the beyond instead of tucked up all cozy in our ship."

"Your ship can be bugged Captain Reynolds." It was the first the Operative had spoken, and Inara jerked around at the sound of his voice. The man had moved over to the table, and was pulling out a chair near its head. "And considering the fact that River would not have brought you to us unless things were truly dire, it is only prudent to take as many precautions as possible."

"Which brings us to the second question," Mal crossed his arms and glared at the man. "Why in the gorram hell would you help her in the first place? Seems you went to an awful lot of trouble to make life hell for her before, and us too."

The other man, as of yet nameless, sighed and looked over at River. She shrugged and pointed at her cheeks, which were full of food, and then waved a hand in his direction. There was still tension there, and the way Riddick's shoulder's had stayed bunched and his hands near the handles of the knives stuck through his belt spoke volumes to the Companion's trained eye. That he'd lost the argument regarding who would sit where was evident, and he was scowling at River as she perched herself on the edge of a chair at his side and a little forward of him instead of down the opposite end of the table from where the two men were standing.

Shaking his head, the man gestured to the chairs again. "Please. Sit. As I said, it will be a long night."

Inara glanced at her husband, who was clenching and unclenching his jaw. A touch on the shoulder and a tip of the head in the direction of the table, and he relented. Straggling and hesitating, the crew found their places, most bunched at the end opposite the two men. River watched them all like a teacher watching her students find their place in class, although the effect was somewhat lessened by the carrot sticking out of one side of her mouth and the way she was pressed up against Riddick's side. The man had one arm draped over the back of her chair, thumb rubbing idle circles over her upper arm, and his attention seemed fixed on the Operative and his companion.

Another furtive look, this one to the threats in their midst, and Inara saw speculation and interested in the unfamiliar faces. And it wasn't in relation to the crew either. Whatever had happened earlier in the day, however River had gotten the Operative to listen to her, it was setting flags up in their minds. She didn't know if it was good or bad; but all things considered she was going to go with the bloody side of hopeful. There just wasn't enough good luck in the 'Verse for the crew to come out on top in this.

Once the shuffling and muttering was done, Kaylee and Jayne each with a plate of food in front of them, the unknown man stood. "Well. Let's not waste words shall we? My name is Thomas. This," he gestured at the Operative. "This is Paul. We are brothers of the Emiliani order."

"Ruttin' government agents is what you are," Jayne muttered around a mouthful of apple. "Leastwise he is," the man poked a knife in the direction of 'Paul' and the motion was no less threatening for the fact that it was a paring knife and not the big deer handled Bowie the merc usually used for threats like that. "Thought you didn't have no names anyways."

"We didn't." Paul folded his hands in front of him and regarded the merc steadily. "But after the events of the broadwave, I found it in the best interests of all to remove myself as a piece on the board. After all," he shrugged and pinned Mal with an unreadable look. "I am no longer the Parliament's man, and I have so very much to atone for."

Inara thought she might have been the only one to hear Zoe's muttered. "Dyin'd fix that." A twitch of Riddick's shoulders in front of her reminded the woman that his hearing was far better than hers.

Paul had paused, and then continued. "I work now to right the wrongs that I helped to perpetrate. It is a slow process, and may never be finished in my lifetime. That is why I partner with others, with the underground movements here and on other planets."

Mal's shoulders had tightened with every word the other man spoke, and Inara leaned back a little to get a better look at his eyes. They'd narrowed, and his nostrils flared in anger. On the other side of the table Kaylee was looking frightened, and huddled into Simon's protective arm like a baby chick under a wing. Jayne was frowning, his face equal parts angry and puzzled. That was par for the course with him, but Inara had no doubt that he'd work it out soon.

"So what, you took up orders, got yourself a name full of symbol, an' decided you're not a monster anymore?" Mal's voice was as angry as his face. "Well isn't that a fine pile of _shu ma nyaow_. What about him," he jerked his head at Thomas, who was watching them all with a wry twist to his lips.

"Eleven is a prime number. Important. One goes into the House of Eleven eleven times." River's voice was firm, and she'd sat forward to lean her elbows against the table. "They will always view themselves as monsters, even as the girl does," she glanced up at Riddick, but Inara couldn't see what his face told the young woman. Muscles in his neck tightened further, and the hand he had resting on the table twitched. River turned back to her crew. "The name is a promise. A vow. A rose by any other name would _not_ smell as sweet." And then having spoken her piece for now; she sat back, tucked her head into Riddick's shoulder again, and resumed munching on another carrot.

There was a collective pause in which the crew tried to unwind that statement and the strangers shared raised eyebrows. Inara shook her head. The girl did it on purpose, she knew. But there were times she wished River would take a little less amusement from tying her family's brains in knots. The girl in question shot the Companion a quick look and a half grin and then twitched when Riddick pinched her earlobe. Right. Reader. And the man she could speak to via telepathy.

"River is correct," Thomas said. "There were eleven Operatives. Each with our own specialty. Each with our own degree of…guilt." He shrugged and splayed the metallic fingers of one hand out one the table. "Each with our own degree of…loyalty to the people."

"And interpretation." Paul took up the threat of the conversation and looked down the table towards the crew. From the tension in the man next to her, she knew he was meeting Mal's eyes squarely. Privately, she thought that it was all a bit overplayed. Even if they did feel guilty for the things they'd done, what made them the right people to come to with the current problem? How had River even known who they were, where they were? Inara almost opened her mouth to ask the question, but the Reader turned to look her right in the face and her eyes were hard.

She snapped her mouth shut on the question.

Simon however, wasn't so restrained. His voice had that special quality to it that reminded a person of just what he must have gone through to get River away from the Academy; and his blue eyes snapped fire. "That's all well and good. Poetical even." He leaned forward to glare at the men. "But you've yet to explain what we're doing _here_." Now he was looking at River. "Or how you got it in your head that this was a _good_ idea _mei mei._"

River's head whipped around to glare at her brother, and the woman was mildly surprised to see Riddick's grip tighten on the girl's shoulder. Holding her back? Or anger in general? It was so hard to tell with his back to her, and there were so many gaps in the chronology of the day so far that she could have been imagining his tension for all the good her observations were doing her. The low rumble building in his chest and the tilt of his head in the girl's direction did nothing to help make up her mind one way or another; but the actions did confirm that she really was catching little signals he was giving off. Looking at her husband, Inara saw that he was watching the pair as well, and he must have known far more about what was going on between the two because it wasn't the look of an overprotective father that he'd had on his face for the past week. This was something new. Something that put her in mind of the expression on his face when he'd stood in the galley all those years ago and told them that he aimed to misbehave.

"Talked to Paul," the girl was saying. She was half twisted in her seat and her gaze was fixed, but not on Simon. She was staring at some point on the far wall, her eyes flickering as if she were watching a scene play out in front of her. Riddick leaned forward a bit, blocking Inara's view of the girl's face, so she turned her attention to the man in question. She was surprised to see his mouth turned down and his brow furrowed. Was this supposed to have been secret?

"Back when Mother was getting repaired. Found him. Wanted to see the man who called himself monster, child killer, seeker of a better world." Riddick had caught the girl's hands in his and was holding her still as her arms and shoulders did a minute dance. Scuffling noises told Inara that her feet were probably jerking around as well. The rumble in the big man's chest hadn't grown, but like a buzz in your ear, it was more noticeable by the second.

"Asked him how he would accomplish his goal now. They all need goals. Need a purpose. A weapon without a purpose sits, collects dust. Grows rusty." Her voice was quavering now. "Give it a reason, an objective and it will stay sharp." The girl stilled and Inara held her breath. "How is it the best maintenance for a human weapon is activity, when a real blade will grow dull with use?"

The rumble in Riddick's chest was turning into a full-fledged growl now. If she'd thought it would make any difference, Inara would have been inching away as carefully as she could. Looking at the rest of her crew, she decided it was a sentiment they all shared, even Mal. A hiss of air between clenched teeth and River started speaking again, sounding just slightly more lucid. "The man, the Operative did not know. Promised to find out. Promised to let her know when he knew."

Down at the other end of the table, the two Operatives had gone completely still.

"Told her," the words ended in a croak, and the girl came into view again as Riddick sat back, hauling her along with him and pinning her against his chest. Strange, how comforting that sight was, after so little time of having him around. The girl shook like a leaf, face slack and eyes huge. Both hands were engulfed in one of his; skin the color of brown sugar a contrast to that of chalky white. "Told her," the girl tried again. "Anything she needed. Any help. Ever. She was to find him." The girl left off her staring at the far wall and turned her gaze on The Operative. Inara still couldn't think of him as Paul.

There was a long silence, not broken by so much as a shift in the seat or a too-loud breath. Riddick wrapped his free arm around the girl's waist and snugged her in close, but every line in his body was still speaking tension and possibly anger. He too was looking at the other man, and from the set of his jaw and the veins starting to stand out at the temples, Inara found herself amazed that he hadn't just drawn one of those strange blades of his and killed the man yet. It would certainly be quicker than he deserved.

"So she found him. When nobody would listen. Chains of love and cotton and wool and more _go se_ meds that only made her _crazier_!" River's voice had been a whisper at the start of the sentence, but it ended in a shout; and she lurched against the arms that held her, eyes wide and staring.

Riddick hauled her back, but she didn't seem to notice. "Thought she could be _fixed,_ that she'd turn back into the girl she used to be_,_" she snarled. "Thought that the answer always lie in more needles. More vials. More playing with her brain!"

It was like a kick in the gut. All the air left her, and Inara felt as if there was none in the room for her to draw back in. Mal had gone stiff beside her, and Zoe was cursing softly behind them. Simon was ashen, and Kaylee's eyes huge. Further back, Jayne threw something at the floor, and it clattered and rang against the stone. Blind, the Companion groped for her husband's hand as she tried to assimilate the words burning through her memory, rising to meet the ones just spoken. How long had it been since they'd heard that rant? How long since the girl had trashed the infirmary, dosed their food with sedatives, and stolen the shuttle? It had been a miracle she hadn't left the cargo bay doors open for anyone to find them. As it was, it had been a day and a half before any of them had woken up, and another two days before they found the shuttle beacon on a nearby moon.

Four months it had been, same as this time almost. Four months of searching, of haggard faces and nightmares. What had happened to their girl? Where had she gone? Had she been kidnapped? Slaved out? Was she dead? Had Blue Sun finally come looking for her again? Had they found her? Every job they took, every planet they set down on, they had hunted and scoured and worried. Every rock they could turn over had been, and even Badger had agreed to keep his ears open. But they'd come up dry, found nothing. Nobody could find her; nobody had ever seen someone matching her description.

And now they knew why.

Looking up at Mal, Inara knew, somehow, that he'd found out earlier today. The look on his face was that of guilt and rage. Very little shock.

"Paul came for her." River wasn't shouting any more. "Brought her to Mik-lat and helped her find her way. Taught her meditation, katas. Ways to center the mind" There was something else to this, Inara knew it. The grip Riddick had on the girl was tightening, and if the goggles had been off she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the look on his face would be promising death on the two at the far end of the table. He had more pieces of this puzzle than any of the rest of them, and for one brief moment, the Companion envied him that inside knowledge.

"River, you mean to say that the whole time we were looking for you, the whole time-" Simon cut himself off, wrapped a hand a little more firmly around Kaylee's and plunged forward. "You'd entrusted yourself to a man who killed hundreds to find you!?"

Next to her, Mal shifted in his seat and shielded his eyes with his hand. Inara laid her fingers on his arm and looked up into his face, asking for explanations of her own. She couldn't help with the guilt, but she wished she could draw it away somehow. He was the Captain, he held responsibility for them all.

She knew what he was feeling. If he'd just listened, all those years ago. If he hadn't supported Simon and his wish to continue treating the girl with med after med. Would they be sitting here now? She felt for Simon too. The look in his eyes was haunted. And if his world had been turned upside down by the revelation that his sister was a grown woman able to choose her own man, it had just gone through an earthquake in the last few moments. One that they'd all experienced.

River's face had gone flat, and her eyes burned as she glared at her brother. "Keeps his secrets," she hissed, pulling against the arms Riddick had wrapped around her. A flash of light drew the eye, and Inara realized the girl had wormed one hand free and stolen a knife from Riddick's belt. "What did you do, Simon, to get the girl free?" She lunged again, teeth bared. "Shall she tell them? Entrusted herself to _you_ didn't she? And look where that got her."

A feral laugh ripped from her throat, and Inara felt goose bumps erupt all over her skin. Riddick had noticed the knife, and had one hand working to retrieve it from the girl. "More needles and drugs. What's in your head girl? What do you see? Same questions, different intent."

Riddick had gotten the blade away, and held it out behind him without looking. Inara reached forward with trembling fingers and took it from him, then passed it behind her again. A cool hand, steady and firm, took it from her, and she blessed every deity she could think of for Zoe's calm in the storm. The woman was the anchor for them all.

"River," the Operative's voice was quiet, coaxing even. "River child, when did you last properly meditate?"

Inara blinked. Mal's head shot up. Riddick twisted around so fast she was surprised he didn't wrench something in his back. In his arms, River hung, gaping like a fish. Half hidden by the huge man who held her, Inara could only make out a slight turn of the girl's head, and a corresponding movement in Riddick's as the two looked at each other. She could guess the answer. The girl had told her that she'd tried to meditate during her small war with the man, and she'd seen her doing katas in the bay. But the any help they may have been was negated by the rampant desire filling the air and the incessant prodding the two had been aiming at each other.

Looking back on the almost two weeks since River had returned to the ship, Inara realized that while there had been a couple of spectacular fits, she hadn't been displaying any more than her normal degree of slight lunacy here and there. Even the past few minutes had largely been par for the course, all things considered. Especially when compared to the months leading up to her disappearance.

Frowning, she tilted her head and looked hard at the back of Riddick's head. Did he have something to do with it? Did this bond that they were so closemouthed about help the girl keep her sanity intact? Was it what enabled him to pin her down and ride out the fits in a way no one else could? Or was it, as she'd speculated before, just another aspect of him being whatever it was that he was?

A cold hand covered hers, and she looked up at Mal, whose lips were pressed into a thin line, and nodded slightly. She'd been watching. She'd share her speculations with him later. Not that it would matter much. If they all got through this, it would be all any of them would be able to talk about for a very long time.

Rough laughter, dark and full of hatred, tore through the air. Mal's hand clenched over her's, Zoe took a sharp breath behind them, and she knew without looking that Jayne was reaching for his gun. Riddick just kept laughing, pulling the girl closer to his side and near burying his face in her neck. Inara stared. She'd never heard a sound like that. It found something deep in her subconscious and sent it scurrying for cover; and she was sending her conscious mind after it. This wasn't human. Not remotely. This was a warning to the hind brain that someone was about to die, and that the hunt involved would be nearly as much fun as the kill at the end. Not for the first time, nor she suspected, the last, Inara remembered that this man claimed to be an animal and did so with great pride. She shuddered.

"Ain't the point," the man said, the first words he'd spoken since they'd entered the room, and his voice was a match for the laugh. She would have pitied the target of his anger, if she hadn't been wishing so hard for the Operative's death. "Came here for something. Now," he set River back in her chair, leaving one arm over her shoulders, and leaned forward. "You gonna help or should I just kill you now and get it over with?"

A breath. Another. The crew sat still, not daring to look away. However little it may look like it on the surface, they all knew just how dangerous the men who'd led them here could be. And Riddick had gone and set down his challenge. Would they retaliate? Would they try to keep the upper hand? Inara knew her family was at a disadvantage here. She wasn't sure where they were, or even if they could make it out of the room. Did the men at the other end of the table really mean the vows they'd taken when they'd put on those collars of stiff white fabric under solemn gray?

Finally the two looked at each other, and Thomas shrugged. Thin lips twisted into a wry grin, and Inara shuddered at the effect it had under those wide cheekbones and the cybernetic eye. "Very well. We shall move on." The man folded long thin fingers with matching ones encased in metal, and tilted his head at the crew. "That topic's been about beaten to death anyways. And you know what they say about the dead horse."

River opened her mouth and Riddick clapped a hand over it. She turned her head to glared at him, and if Inara hadn't known better she would have sworn the girl was _laughing_ at him. The man snorted, waited a moment, and let the young woman have her face back.

She wrinkled her nose at him, and then turned back to her family. "Apologies. Most of this you have heard before. It is needful though, to repeat." She frowned at them in general. "Please do not interrupt."

And with no further lead in, she turned so she sat forward in her chair and started in on a much abbreviated version of the tale she and Riddick had told them not two weeks before. Inara let the words wash over her, paying faint attention to what the girl was saying in favor of watching the reactions of those around her. Necromongers, a serum that altered the genes until the brain no longer received notice of the pain in the body, a girl who lost a brother and took the only chance at life left to her. The sum was the same in the end, no matter that the phraseology was different. Death. Cryo. Long travel through space looking for a place to bury her.

Inara sat back for a better view, watching the muscles in Riddick's shoulders shift, tighten to near rock hardness, then relax. He couldn't be happy about this, not in the least. It was as if he kept working himself up to a boil about something and just before he erupted someone took the pot off the stove. What was going on in his head? She decided it was best she didn't know. Enough that River's presence at his side seemed to be keeping him from truly losing his temper. Every time she thought the man was about to explode, the girl twitched against, him, or traced a finger over the hand resting on her shoulders.

Once, about the time they'd gotten around to the part where the sister had died, she thought that was it. The man's knuckles were white around the handle of one of his knives, and there was a stillness about him that could only mean very bad things were about to happen. And then River leaned back against him, resting her head lightly on the arm over her shoulders, and sat forward. Just like that, he let go of the knife, twined a finger through her hair, and rolled his head on his shoulders.

Looking up at Mal next to her, she saw that he was dividing his attention between the two Operatives, rather than Riddick. Following his gaze, she frowned. They looked…serious yes. But worried too. What did they know that the crew didn't? The focus in their eyes was reserved solely for the girl still tracing out the bare bones of her story, and aside from little glances at each other, the rest of the room may as well have not existed. Hands clasped on the table in front of them, their faces were impassive, their body language neutral. What was it that made them so? What had turned them from men to robots, to monsters? She was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for them to reveal that the taking up of orders, the guilt, and the penance they'd spoken of to be false. It was too much to wrap her mind around otherwise, the knowledge that men who'd done such deeds as they had could turn away from that life so easily.

Behind her Zoe was shifting in her chair. A quick look revealed a set jaw and thinned lips. Hard eyes flickered to meet questioning ones, and a silent agreement was made. They'd keep watch, whatever may come. There was something off about this, something in the ease with which these men were taking the story. The Captain and Jayne may use weapons to guard the crew, but the women used their eyes and minds. And the occasional well placed bullet.

"Lost her," River was saying, voice soft, and Inara turned back around. "Was triggered on Persephone. Captain Daddy brought her back to Mother, Riddick as well." She shrugged and spread her hands. "By the time they woke, it was too late. Lost the prey. Trap was sprung too close to rescuers. New bait left. _Hound_ sits in dock even now, awaiting the rabbit so the box may come and land over it." Inara tilted her head so she could see just a little bit better around Riddick's shoulder, and as if he knew what she was doing, the man shifted to block her.

"Consolation prize taken," River continued. "They have the girl now. The river doesn't speak on where. Hidden in cold machines and code she cannot find the keys to. Password over code over cipher, hidden among the machines and she knows not which person holds the final key. Cannot find them in the river. Need your help, before they discover the secrets and realize the possibilities."

Silence.

Thomas sighed and looked at the Operative, who was frowning at his hands before him. Another moment and a room full of quiet breathing got even quieter. When the monster finally spoke, the gentleness in his voice was almost worse than any threat. "It may be possible River. But we can make no guarantees. It will take time. And it may ruin everything we have worked for here, if we are caught at it."

The girl didn't answer. Across the table, Simon was looking sick, and Kaylee nervous. Sierra, who'd been watching the entire goings on with wide eyed wonder as she munched on pieces of apple, stared around her from her place on the mechanic's knee. Behind them, Jayne and Zoe were shifting in their seats, and Inara could hear the slide of metal on leather as they each drew their favored weapons.

"In the meantime, it is late. There is certainly nothing that says it must, or can, be solved tonight" The Operative stood and gestured at the door behind him. "Please. There are quarters that have been made ready. Further details may be gained in the morning. I imagine it has been a long day for many of you."

Inara held back a snort, but didn't move. Long day indeed. And now they were to be prisoners on top of it.

"Not prisoners." River stood and glared at them all in a general way. "Satellites are overhead. None can leave until danger is past. Guest quarters have locks only on the inside." She shrugged and started tugging on Riddick's arm when he wouldn't stand. "_Hwoon dahn_ murderer might even enjoy a shower stall that is big enough to turn around in for a change."

That worked far more effectively in getting everyone else up. Riddick growled as he stood scowl down at the girl and for some reason unbeknownst to her, Inara started to inch away again. The visible anger had begun rebuilding in his body, and she didn't want to know why. Looking at Mal, she waited for his response to the invitation. He was still Captain after all, and had a better grip of what was going on at the moment than any of the rest of the crew. She let him know with her eyes that whatever he decided, she expected a full accounting of the events of the morning. They were all crippled with only half knowledge.

He nodded slightly in response, and then turned to look over his family. Various expressions of unease, distrust, and resignation met him. They were all in it now, and they knew it. Even Sierra was somber, looking from her _jì__míng_ aunts and uncles to her mother, and then over to the men waiting quietly at the other end of the door. Mal sighed, and Inara mirrored it. Once again, following a young woman's word into who knew what. A strong arm in solid cotton wrapped around her shoulders and she leaned into her husband's warmth as he turned back to look at River. "Lead on 'Tross. Seein' as you're our pilot and all."

They'd almost made it out of the room, a straggling trail of people too shell-shocked to do much more than mutter to themselves. It was Thomas leading them, not River. The door he'd opened had revealed a short hall, much more brightly lit than the first two, but Inara's brain was too full to care. It wasn't until she heard the thud and smack of metal meeting flesh that she realized Zoe had hung back a little.

Spinning on her heel, Inara looked back just in time to see the Operative picking himself up off the floor. Riddick had the first mate's arms caught behind her back, but he didn't seem to be hurting her. She was glaring, and bringing her foot up for a kick when the big man leaned down and murmured something in her ear. River had placed herself between the Operative and the widow, and was looking at the latter with huge sorrowful eyes.

Zoe's jaw set in a firmer line, and Inara wondered briefly if all the affection the woman had had for the Reader had just been lost. But she allowed the girl to touch her cheek gently, and took the mare's leg the girl had picked up off the floor with a steady hand. Almost too steady. Another moment, and River said something in a voice too soft to hear; then Riddick let go of his grip on her elbows. Zoe stood, head up and eyes hot as she glared at the man currently dabbing blood from his broken nose, then spun on her heal and stalked down the hall and past her Captain. Inara watched her go, watched as Thomas gestured and indicated that the next turn would take her to the sleeping quarters, and then looked up at Mal. He shook his head at her and sighed.

She hoped they wouldn't be here long. Otherwise they might all die before their Reader and her murderer found what they were looking for.

**Author's Note**: So. Getting a little discouraged here. Don't mean to fish, but I think I'm losing people. It's getting long, I know. But I promise there's an end coming. Please though, tell me what you think, even if it's bad. I'm a big girl. I can take it. I know I have more than two or three people reading, but I only ever hear from a few. /bow

Onward. Here we have more fun and games. But not really. This is getting much more serious than I'd anticipated. I promise, I'll try and bring more humor into this, but Riddick's not being very cooperative any more. Stubborn man.

Keep in mind; this is all through Inara's POV. She's going to get things a little off, taking readings of people that don't quite jive with what's gone before. But I'd had enough of River and Riddick's back and forth squabbling for a little while, and this seemed to work much better.

They are, as always, not mine. They'd live in this special little hell I've created for them all the time. If they were, I'd be like Chernabog in the _Night on Bald Mountain_ sequence in _Fantasia._ Only they wouldn't be dancing, they'd be writhing. I promise, there's a light somewhere at the end of the tunnel.

Speaking of darkness, wanted to point you towards a couple of authors I found that write pure _Pitch Black_ goodness. Saismaat makes me think. Lots. She's DISSECTED Riddick. And her stories lean towards dark!Riddick. But they entertain! Kali-Red has one story up. Not for the faint of heart. Here's the extreme Riddick. Dark, rapist, world ender. He's terrifying and glorious all at once. Truly earns its M rating…

Rachet: So glad things seem to be working. More buildup here, but hopefully some things coming to light as well.

Shenandoah76209: Well, not seeing much of Mik-Lat for now. It's under a mountain you see. And I get the feeling River and Riddick don't plan to explore much. But think of Petra, the city in the cliffs, and it's sort of like that. Sort of. As for the Operative…I think he's safe for now. Except from Zoe. And really, did you expect her not to snap at some point? I think the rest are all overwhelmed, between River hiding with the Operative in the first place, and bringing them back to him now.

Translations:

_shu ma nyaow- _stinking horse piss

_mei mei- _sister

_go se_-dig shit

_Hwoon dahn_ -bastard

_j__ì__m__í__n__g- _adopted name **/** to take a name (of one's adoptive family)


	41. Chapter 41

Ch. 41

_Break up already, wake up now_

_Walk away, take it all back now_

_Don't be quick to lick the scab off_

_You're spitting in His face with the rest of them_

"Chasm" Flyleaf

Riddick stopped only long enough to take a quick look at the layout of the room they'd been given before shrugging out of his harness and heading back out the door. River had watched him go, eyes sad and the girl all curled up with the jaguar among the tree branches. But she knew she couldn't follow. Zoe was as likely to try and shoot her as the Operative at this point, and she had no words to explain anyways. And what he had to say to the woman would have more impact if it came from him anyways. She needed to know that any prior claims she'd had on Paul's life had vanished the minute Riddick had learned the truth behind River's recovery.

So River had slipped out of her clothes and into the bathing room and Riddick had gone hunting. It didn't take long. All the guest rooms were together, and he could hear scuffles and murmurs from behind the doors as he passed. Inara and Mal were filling each other in on their day, comparing notes and sharing insights. Kaylee was pleading with Simon, tears in her voice. She wasn't getting any response. Not surprising. The man's heart rate had been erratic ever since he'd found out that his sister had trusted a man he considered a monster over her brother when it came to regaining her sanity.

Riddick snorted quietly to himself. She had a disturbing habit of reaching straight for the bottom of the barrel when it came to asking for help. Himself included

She glared at him in his mind and flicked stream water his way, same as she'd been doing all night. ::Stupid man. You are the jaguar. Not a monster. There is a difference.::

He grumbled back at her and walled his thoughts off a little tighter. She was still wound up enough that he didn't want to be tipping her even further over the edge. He considered it a minor miracle that he'd managed to pull so much nervous angry from her in the past hour. The fact that she'd been able to keep drawing up the waters to drown his rage was far more promising. Now if they could just make it out of this warren of caves soon, maybe they had a chance of getting their feet back under them. Or was it the other way around? He cursed to himself. The day had been too long. The fucking _week_ had been too long. A bed, sleep, and River wrapped around him was all he wanted at the moment.

Hands fisted in fur and warm lips pressed against the forehead of the man as she sent wordless agreement his way. He caught an impression of a shower, steam making her skin glisten, before she pushed him gently away. ::Thomas was right. Meditation may help. Not,:: she halted his panicked protest before he could form it entirely. ::Not the full drop. But a recentering. Find the foundation again.::

The animal nudged the man in the side and curled up around the girl as she knelt by the stream. He felt a rumble build in his chest and swallowed it down. Nothing he could do about it now. And if he kept drawing any more of her tension into himself, he'd wind up snapping soon. Not that he'd mind, if it were Paul under his blade, but there were more important things to worry about at the moment

Like a widow who looked like she was about to throw herself off a balcony.

He'd found her, grief and anger overlaying leather and brown sugar, the tang of gun oil and the salt of tears that she refused to shed in public. Tall and strong, Zoe stood at one end of the hallway, in a tiny alcove that let out to an even tinier balcony. He could see a mountain range beyond her shoulder, peaks outlined in moonlight and the sky full of stars. He scuffed a foot along the floor, and she almost turned her head at the noise. But her hands were white knuckled where she gripped the stone railing, and wondered briefly if she'd be able to pry them loose. Holding herself in place, he wondered? Or working up the guts to make the jump down the scree covered mountainside?

He was spending too much time in River's head. He was even starting to think like her. A far off giggle answered that, and he scowled back.

"Long drop," he said finally, stepping up beside her on the balcony. They barely fit. His shoulders crowded her over, and she had to either back up or move to the side to get her space back. Her fingers were stiff when she pulled them free, and she refused to look his way as she propped a hip on it instead.

Silence reigned, and he pretended he didn't hear her heart's erratic beat or the gasping of her choked off breath. She, in return, pretended he wasn't there. He counted his own heart beats as he waited, keeping track of the time the only way he'd ever had in cryo. Who needed a chrono when your body did just fine?

"I hate her sometimes," the woman said finally. It wasn't a whisper. She wasn't hiding from the truth. "If we hadn't gone lookin' for Miranda. If she hadn't dug it up on the Cortex…" She caught one full lip in her teeth and tilted her head up to keep the tears from running down her cheeks. They pooled and ran towards her ears instead. "My man might still be alive right now. Sierra'd have a daddy."

Riddick took a seat on his little patch of railing and leaned back against the cliff as he crossed his arms. Another moment, another gulped down breath, and she continued. "But she'd a never gone lookin'. Would never happened if that _liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze_ hadn't triggered her. If those _niao se dub doo gway_, mother fucking sonsabitches in the Alliance and Blue Sun ain't gone cuttin' on her in the first place." She trailed off into more Chinese, all of it foul, and he guessed it had more to do with parentage and animals and places they could shove live grenades.

He couldn't keep the smirk off his face, despite the anger still pulsing in his veins. Here was the soldier. Here was the warrior. It was something to see all right. He wondered if any of the rest of the crew appreciated the rock at their core. Mal may have the charisma and quick thinking, Jayne the firepower and bluster, Kaylee the softness and Inara the logic. But this woman, she was the cunning. The determination. He was glad he'd never come up against her in a fight. Or a hunt. If it weren't for River being twenty times as deadly, he'd almost be interested.

::Man whore,:: her voice was amused. And sad. She'd been listening in.

::Thought you were meditating.::

She ignored him.

Oblivious, Zoe had trailed off, having run out of curses. He watched her, head tilted to make up for the peripheral vision the goggles cut off. He wished he could take them off, but he didn't trust the people who ran this place as far as he could throw them. Next thing, they'd want to stick _him _in a lab.

"You ever seen a hype detoxing," he asked finally, when her heart had steadied a bit and she wasn't biting her lip to hold in gulps for air. She looked over at him with sharp eyes. He pretended to ignore her. "Different depending on the drug. But their minds tend to go…sideways. Shakes. Mood swings. Some stop eating." He shrugged. "Quit sleeping. Hallucinate even." He turned his head to look at her, and some of the flat rage in her face had been replaced with shock. "Can get pretty ugly." He waited a moment to see if she'd do anything with the breath she'd just inhaled, but the woman stayed quiet.

"You've seen it. You just didn't know what it was." He sat back on the railing and pulled a foot up so he could rest his arm on his knee. "She tried you know. Once she realized it was the drugs keeping her that way. Making it worse." He slipped one of his smaller blades from the inside of his boot and turned it over in his hands, just to have something to do, to keep his focus off the need to go back inside and hunt down every person who'd ever seen her in that room. "Three or four times. Never got much past the first couple reactions. That _genius_ Doctor of yours always stuck her full of something again. Made it that much harder to get off the next time."

Her heart had started racing again and he imagined she was working through her memories to try and pick things out of the timeline that matched. He himself was letting the animal pull it up for him. So long as he stayed away from the ones of the time spent in this place, he could keep the rage to a low boil. "You all thought they were bad days. Or the dosages needed to be upped. Or something. Never bothered to listen to her though." He turned his head back to look her in the eye. "Never bothered to wonder if she might be better off without the drugs." He grinned, showing as many teeth as he could. Her pupils dilated and a peculiar mix of horror and anger started to seep through her scent.

"Me, I woulda just killed you all. Lost my shit and had myself a bloodbath. Real lucky she just ran. Real lucky she had enough sense in her to manage it." He was growling now, and put the blade back in his boot so he wouldn't go and wrap his hand around it like he had a week before. The fucking gash in his palm was only barely healed after all.

"_Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiouh doh sai-jin wuh duh pee-goo_," Zoe breathed.

He shrugged. "So she found someone to help her. Someone who owed her a debt so big he had no _choice_ but to listen."

A moment. Her face had gone flat again, but her heart was still racing and her breath coming in shallow beats like there wasn't enough oxygen in the air. He savored it. It was the sound of prey being run to ground. The animal brought its head up from where it had been lying next to the girl, attention caught now. Thin fingers dug into his fur and anchored it in place, and the weapon came out of nowhere and sat square on the man's stomach. Little witch. She knew what was coming.

"She detoxed all right. Whole nine yards. Screaming, hallucinations, sickness." He had to go back to looking at the stars. If he watched the woman, if he saw the look on her face, he didn't know if he'd be able to keep his temper long enough to make it back to the room without killing the first person he came across. It pissed him off to no end that her crew had put River in such a spot. It sent the man into a rage when he thought on what she'd gone through, buried under this mountain. The animal just wanted its pound of flesh; and was willing to take it from any one of the responsible parties, be they her crew or the holy men who weren't.

Someone was going to die at the end of all this. Someone was going to pay.

"How…" Zoe trailed off and restarted her thought in a different place. The horror hadn't left, and he guessed the anger he was still smelling was probably directed at herself as much as it was Paul. Good. "She came back sane. Mostly. Never told anyone anything."

He snorted and rubbed at the strap of the goggles where they were cutting into his ear. "Why should she? What would she have said?" He shrugged and stood upright so he could turn and look loom over her. "Told you about Paul? Where she hid?" He leaned forward, right into her space. The girl in his mind hauled on the animal, but the anger was building higher than the waters would reach.

"Or maybe she shoulda told you about the straightjacket and the padded room. About spending a week screaming her lungs out because she couldn't tell friend from enemy and killed four people with her breakfast dishes." He was snarling now. He knew he was still more pissed at the people here than the woman in front of him. But she was convenient. She'd been part of the problem in the first place. And he needed to make her understand just what River had gone through because of her shit family and their fucking blindness.

"You ever woke up and not know who you are," he growled. "Know what it feels like to have your mind snap and go batshit? To not be able to move on your own and wonder if you're going to spend your life tied down like that?"

Something flickered in her eyes, and full lips pressed into a thinner line as she set her jaw. "Yes."

He blinked and sat back. Tilted his head and let his features settle into a scowl as he waited to see if she'd elaborate. He wasn't disappointed.

"Career military." Her voice was clipped and if there'd been room for her to stand on the tiny balcony she would have been at parade rest before him. As it was, he took up too much space. He wasn't about to let her up though. River prodded his mind and turned back to her meditations, muttering about _hwoon dahns_ and their ideas of one-upmanship.

"Six years, fought for Independence. For the right to live our lives the way we wanted without some purple belly mucking up the works. Poured everything I had into it." She took a breath, and he smelled regret now, horror gone. "Cap'n and I carried each other through that war. All the way up to the _ta ma de_ Valley. Even lived long enough for the surrender." Her eyes were hard, and she looked away, out over the mountains and the dim lit clouds scudding over the sky. "He'd had enough. Me? Just couldn't stop fighting. Kept going.

Another breath, and Riddick leaned back up against the railing behind him and crossed his arms. This was interesting. Not enough to draw all the rage away, but interesting.

"Called us Dust Devils. Terrorists. Bombed bases. Fought a war all our own. Too mad at everyone to stop. Wanted blood." She looked back at him and her entire body dared him to call her to accounts for it. "An' we got it in spades."

He waited a moment more, to see if she had anything to add. When she kept quiet, he nodded, and then sat forward. "Promised myself something, while back. When she was telling me about you and your crew actually. And what her life'd been like. People who done this to her, broke her like they did, they'd get what's coming."

"That's a lot of people."

He shrugged and turned to go. "It's what I'm good at." One foot back in the hall he stopped to look down at her. "He's going to die, once this is over. Till then, we need him alive."

She frowned, and the anger that had been fading from her scent bloomed again. One hand fingered the short barreled shotgun still attached to her hip and he waited for her to come to her decision. Would he have to injure and possibly kill her now, to keep her from going haywire and forgetting the larger goal? Or would she see reason. He figured he had her pinned. She was a soldier after all. Not one of the high command with the wide view of things, but still a soldier. He didn't know how the ranks would have worked, but he probably would have been her superior once upon a time. She just didn't carry the command persona the way the Captain did. The way Paul and Thomas did. The way he knew he could when he felt like it.

::Ah,:: River whispered in his mind, voice wry. ::Pride. It goeth before-:: and she cut herself off just as Zoe opened her mouth.

"You're jealous."

The girl in his head looked serious, while the weapon still holding the man down in the stream lost her grip and started tittering. The animal yanked its head up to stare, and the man himself pulled his dripping body out of the water to glare at the woman in front of him. What the fuck?

Zoe's lips twitched. Not a full smile, but enough of a hint at one to tell him she was pretty happy to have gotten the drop on him. He turned to face her, trying to figure out how she'd done it. What she thought she'd seen that led her to that conclusion.

"What the fuck," he asked, for lack of anything better to say.

Her lips twitched again, and humor danced in her eyes. Smug humor. "My man, he was jealous. Not that he thought he was in danger a' losin' me ta 'nother man." Her smiled fell a bit. "He worried about the one I already had. Man I'd walked through a war with. Seen beaten, bloody and naked. Starved and out of ammo and God knew what else." She looked back up at the stars, unfamiliar constellations sparkling through the atmosphere. Riddick frowned and leaned back against his piece of railing, wondering when she'd get to the point.

"He'd say I had two husbands. Never did like that I'd obey Mal, follow orders and such." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Course, wasn't like he was askin' me to obey him. Knew better'n that. Always said he loved that I could break him in half with a pinky."

Riddick tipped his head to the side and studied the woman. Here then was her grief. Her weakest spot. River had told him of course, and he'd seen in through her memories. But it was a different thing, when a person pulled the armor out of the way themselves and painted a target over their heart. If he'd been the man of a few years ago, hell, of a few weeks ago, he may have taken the opportunity. Just to see what sort of reaction he'd get. But he didn't need the watchful presence of River in his head to stop him. He realized then that if he only ever respected one person in this crazy clusterfuck family, it'd be the woman in front of him.

And he had a feeling that he might have liked her husband too. Dinosaur toys and inability to fight notwithstanding, it must have taken something to marry a woman like this. The man had been right. She had two husbands. Just attached to different bits of her soul.

The animal laid its head down on its paws. It was no longer concerned with her words. She didn't have it in her to say what she didn't mean. The man on the other hand, was still fighting the idea of jealously. Girl and weapon just sat and watched, and he got the sense of breath and water, but not much else

Oblivious to the thoughts running through his head and the one sided struggle he was having with himself, Zoe sighed and continued. "Near got himself killed over it a coupla times. Hadn't been

for-" She cut herself off and looked back at him. "Ain't the point."

He let a little of the anger out in his voice as he forced a grin. "You have one?"

The look she gave him was one of flat disgust. "_Cao_, course I got a point." She came off the railing and got up in his face, one hard finger poking him in the chest. "Know jealousy when I see it. And you Riddick, are a study in it. But tell me something." She tilted her head to mirror his, face as hard as granite and anger seeping from every pore. This close he could smelt faint traces of sweat, of the little plastic toy she carried in one pocket, and the tang of the metal in her gear.

"What's got you worked up worst," she asked, as if his nostrils hadn't flared when she came into his space. "Is it that you can't get past the idea of her in a straightjacket?" She was right up in his face now; and the animal growled low at the intrusion while the man readied himself for an attack. "Or that you weren't there for it? That another man saw her at her worst and helped her back from the edge?"

He glared down at her through the goggles as she stared up at him. Her words rang in his head, and River twitched right out of whatever meditation she'd been doing as they echoed down the bond to her. Whatever she thought of them, she walled it up quickly.

He snarled, both at the girl in his head and the woman in front of him, and leaned down to whisper in the shell of her ear. "Better that _somebody_ was there for her, instead of no one."

Animal growling, man still looking for a fight, and the girl-weapon creature watching them all with sadness and resignation in her eyes, he turned on his heel and stalked away. Zoe moved out of the way before he could shoulder her aside and he resisted the urge to bump into her on purpose. Instead he set himself to finding apples and rain so he could wash the stench of guilt and anger from his nose and memory.

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for all the comments and views and everything else guys. I know I've kind of lost my juice in the last couple chapters. I might be going back at some point and trying to squish them down some. They were by far not my best efforts, but I couldn't see any other way to do it. It seemed like cheating to just say "And they went to Mik-lat. The crew wasn't happy, and even less so when River revealed how she knew Paul." Guh.

Anyways. Onward. What I'm trying to do here, what a lot of this sidetracking and blah-bitty-blah is supposed to do is build the characters. Change doesn't happen in a vacuum, and Firefly wasn't a one man show. I'm trying to do justice to that, while still telling River and Riddick's story. At the end, I need Riddick accepted, and River to be seen as she is instead of as the Crazy girl, or the Weapon, or whatever label the individual crew members have for her. As I see it, part of that means interactions with the crew, showing things from their point of view and not just our Darling Duo. This was actually one of my favorite chapters to write concerning that, because I think Riddick (this version at least) would get along great with Zoe.

Rachet: We'll get to Paul and Thomas in a couple chapters. We'll see what that look meant, I promise. I don't know that I can write from their viewpoint though. Not at this point at least. They're less full-fledge characters and more props for now. But I do plan on doing more exposition on them. Maybe a one shot later on or something…

Guineverekay: Oh goody! Glad you still like it. I'm sorry thing are confusing. Sometimes it's because of all the mental stuff, sometimes it's because I'm trying to set something up on down the line. I kinda screwed the pooch with the whole animal/girl/man/weapon/LANDSCAPING thing. It's like I'm trying to write _Vanilla Sky_, or _The Butterfly Effect_ sometimes. Or the last few eps of _Neon Genesis Evangelion_. WTF did I get myself into? I hadn't thought much on Simon's secret. Maybe later I can work some stuff in on that though. Hm…

N255: Hey hey! Glad you still like it. I'm trying to get my mojo back, I really am. The big group activities just aren't my strong point though. Ouy, joys of trying to edit on the fly, and publishing in serial form…

Jazzisabamanfan: Yay! Thanks so much! I was just feeling a little like I was talking to an empty room, ya know? Glad you enjoy the pairing so much, and the fic. And I might have a sequel in mind. Lots to work out on the idea though, cause it's less about just the crew and more about the Alliance as a whole. Again, thanks much!

Shenandoah76209: I keep having to check my typing when I put your name down so I don't misspell ;P Glad I haven't lost you. Interested in seeing that Monsters one. I can understand wanting to read a whole fic at once. I'm usually like that. And yeah, Zoe needed to hit Paul. I kept thinking of _Trash_ and how she decked Saffron and knew she couldn't just let the opportunity pass. Hopefully I can get most of the crew out of the mountain soon.

Beth Weasly: So glad you're still here! Nice to hear from you! And yes, the Paul/Thomas thing is supposed to be very like Book. Only from the Alliance side instead of the Independents. I have the _Firefly_ comics, and am really trying to draw from them as well as the wikis and the show for backstory.

Tremerid: I really, really really want this done. I do! Truly. It's eaten up my spring and summer and was never intended to be big enough to sink a ship. I got into this around chapter 20, when I made the choice to go for character development and sort out the obvious instability in River and Riddick's relationship. That and I just can't pass up a chance to dump whatever kind of hell I can come up with on their heads. And now that I started, I can't really start abbreviating much. I would love to go back and trim down the last few chapters, if I could figure out where to cut things that won't have an effect on the story later. So sorry. I completely understand if you want to ditch me. I do have a plan. A goal. And soon I'll be able to start skipping weeks at a time.

Translations:

_liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze_ – Son of a drooling whore and a monkey

_niao se dub doo gway-_Piss soaked pikers

_Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiouh doh sai-jin wuh duh pee-goo_-Everything in space is stuffed up my ass

_hwoon dahns_ -bastards

_Cao_-fuck


	42. Chapter 42

_Ch. 42_

_But I'm on the outside _

_I'm looking in _

_I can see through you _

_See your true colors _

_'Cause inside you're ugly _

_You're ugly like me _

_I can see through you _

_See to the real you _

"Outside" Staind

Their quarters were dark, and he only paused long enough to make sure the door was locked before ripping off his goggles and tossing them in the direction of the bed. He didn't care where they landed. He was too fucking pissed at everyone outside this room to give a fuck if someone tripped over them. The boots went next, and the only reason he didn't kick them halfway across the room was that he had to stop and unlace them.

He could hear the shower running, and since the room before him was devoid of life, it didn't take much work to figure out where River was. Shedding clothes as he went, balling them up and chucking them to different corners of the room, dropping his weapons in a heap on a low couch, he growled his way through the room. River was quiet in his mind, and although he could feel her there, it was as if her attention was turned more inward than outward. Maybe she'd tried to meditate again. He still hadn't gotten the feel for it. All her recent attempts had been linked with a desire to drive him out of his mind with lust and desire, and the only example he had from before their little war this last week or so was the one in which she'd nearly died.

Palming open the door, he was met with steam. Clouds of it. Wet heat slapped him in the face, bringing condensed peat, bitter herbs, and cool water over apples and rain with it. There was something chemical in it as well, and the animal almost lurched forward in alarm. But he caught himself, took a second sniff and came to the decision it must be soap of some sort. Or shampoo. In his mind, River twisted a little at that, but otherwise didn't acknowledge him. He frowned. She wasn't precisely walling him off, but what was going on?

He found out when he opened the door of the shower. She'd been right. It was huge. Most of the crew would have fit in it, all at the same time. Long enough for him to lie down in, it was carved right out of the stone that made up the mountains, sealed against damp, and fitted with shower heads at each end. A low bench was built into the long wall facing the glass door, and a small plastic shelf held various bottles and tubes of who knew what. And there at one end, a single shower head turned on and beating her with its spray, knelt River. Her head was bowed, and there was a bottle held in loose fingers before her. He tried to listen, but the sound of the spray in the contained area overrode her heart and breath.

::River,:: he said it as quiet as he could, unsure of the reaction he'd set off. Would it be the weapon? Or the waif? Or the combination of the two that never failed to set his blood running and his animal looking for a way to provoke her so much that she'd finally let him nail her to the wall. She was still in his mind. Sometime between his departure from the little balcony and Zoe's too knowing face and his arrival at their quarters, the girl and the weapon had vanished to their side of the link.

She twitched, and raised her face so she could peer at him through a curtain of straggled hair. He stepped in, slid the door closed, and came to kneel in front of her, letting his knees splay to bracket hers. ::River,:: he tried again, reaching to cup her chin in his palm. She rubbed her jaw against it, and mustered up a smile. In his mind, the girl twisted back into view, and settled herself on the stream bank. The animal rested its head on her knee as the man gathered her up. For the first time in a long time, he found a set of words on his lips that he'd sworn he'd never say again. But he never made it past the inhale of breath needed to say them.

She dropped the bottle, clutched at the hand at her chin, and scrambled into his lap. She was clinging like a limpet before he realized she'd moved; legs around his waist and arms around his ribs as she buried her face in his shoulder. The man blinked in surprise, the animal gaped out a laugh, and he looked down at the dark head as he tried to figure out what was going on. Of course his dick thought it knew exactly what was about to happen, but nothing in her scent led him to believe she wanted anything more than to cling, at least for the moment. Wet earth and hints of charcoal teased his nose, and he brought his hands up to rub slow circles across her back. Pushing curiosity and inquiry at her, he found that his rage and frustration had drained away. Was it the water of her mind? Or the water of the shower?

::She doesn't know either. Looked for her center. For the well:: Her breathing was steady under his hands. ::Worked for a while. Thought she had it.:: She pulled away so she could look up into his face. ::But everyone is so _angry_. Even you.:: The girl in his lap hadn't moved much, but the one in his mind was lacing delicate fingers through the fur of the animal, kneading at its shoulders and avoiding the eyes of the man.

::Zoe wants her man back. Simon hates Paul and Thomas the way a mongoose hates a viper. It's part of him, forever.:: Another twist of the finger through fur, and the shift of her body against his reminded him that they were both very naked. He stepped on the urge. If she noticed, she didn't respond. ::Kaylee is worried. Worried for _Serenity_. Worried for her family. It's like a tick, in the skin.:; She pinched him lightly on the back of the arm and he barked in surprise. ::Digs in, won't let go of the brain. All the worry. Knows she should hate. Is trying, for the sake of the girl. Makes her not herself and the sun burns through the mask.:: A deep shuddering breath, and she sat quiet against him again.

He let her, not wanting her to get to the reactions of the rest of the crew. She was going down the list, and he had a gut feeling he'd be at the end of it. The events of the night before and the day played in front of his eyes. Had it only been last night? How had things gotten so fucked up? What had happened? When had it happened? Quickly as he could, he walled those thoughts away from her, telling himself that it _wasn't_ pride that kept him from admitting how badly he'd fucked up. It wasn't.

She twitched in his arms, and he held his breath, wondering if she'd caught any of that. But there were tears trickling down her cheek to his shoulder, and her breath was starting to come in pants. ::Under the water. Please,:: she was gasping in his head, and curling even tighter around him. ::Drowns it out. Daddy's rage. Jayne's sorrow and fury. Please please please.::

She'd never begged him. Not like that.

Cursing, the man picked her up and pulled her towards the base of the tree. The animal leapt ahead, up to the roots, and together they managed to get her up into the shelter of the broad branches. In the physical it almost took more work, as he had to get off his knees, get his feet out in front of him, and scoot forward till they were both back under the relentless pounding of the water. It was as undignified as hell, and he had a brief moment to be glad there was no one around to see him scrabbling across the floor like a fucking crab with a limpet stuck to its shell. She giggled into his collarbone and he growled in reply. The things she got him to do.

The animal pinned her to the tree branch with its bulk, and she didn't complain as he finished rearranging her in his lap. A sigh, burbling through the water that surrounded them, and she started scrabbling around the floor with her hands. It nearly pushed him over backwards, and he set a hand to her shoulder to get her to stop. "What now girl?"

"Shampoo?"

He grumbled, pinched her ear on the principle of the thing, and reached back for the bottle he'd shoved out of the way. She held out a hand for it, and he raised it above his head so she couldn't get to it, flashing white teeth in a dark grin. When all else failed, provoking her tended to work.

Except in this case. She was drained, he could feel it, and although she managed a growl and a "_Hwoon dahn_" between clenched teeth, she didn't rise to the bait. Grumbling to himself, he flicked open the cap and dumped a fair measure of it onto the crown of her head. She flinched, but bared her teeth in a grin, and he realized he'd been had.

Their laughter mixed with the steam and the pounding of the rain, bouncing off the walls of glass and stone and ringing in his bones. She leaned against him, momentarily content as he worked careful fingers through her hair, leaving white foam behind. The still hot water sluicing down their bodies rinsed it out in short order. Just how big were the water heaters in this place?

"Small city, hidden in the mountains. Heaters help generate steady signature. Fools satellites into not knowing when there are visitors and when it is empty." She sighed and let him tip her head back so the soap wouldn't get in her eyes. ::Wish we could have had a way to hide Haven. Hide our friends.:: She was back to wet earth and bitter herbs over charcoal. The girl in the tree was shuddering, and the girl in his arms weeping. For a moment he wondered. Just what it was about that particular planet that had such a grip on her? For another moment he considered asking. But it was stupid really. He had the memories. Bodies scattered, burned out swings and children with 50 cal. holes in their chests. Whatever else he might _not_ know about the moon, the town, he knew it was where her family had broken.

::No.:: The whisper was raw in the ears of the animal. ::Long before. Inara left, couldn't deal with what was between her and the Captain.::

No terms of affection there. Had she really lost her father for his mistakes? Too late to take it all back now. The slack look of grief on her face as he worked his hands through her hair was at complete odds with the tense shuddering heartache branded into his mind.

::Shepard left soon after. Tried. Really did. But he hadn't come down the downslide. Just hidden it away and tried to deny. Clung:: her fingernails were digging bloody crescents into his back. ::Clung to his faith and tried to believe he'd changed.::

He blinked, pulled back to look her in the eyes, and remembered that she'd promised him a full accounting of the holy man. Odd, how a day of rage and frustration and nearly getting his head taken off could push a thing to the back of the mind. He almost told her not to bother, but she'd run right over the top of that thought without even pausing to see what it was. Well fine then.

::Wasn't born Book. Wasn't born anyone. Babies are nameless until they are named. But Henry was just a word, not an identity.:: Her voice was soft, and the animal leaned a little harder into her side. ::Music a refuge. A trap. Can't hear the tread of the boot as anger comes up to beat you down. Not safe. Not sound. ::

The shampoo was gone from her hair, and he leaned back to drag the little shelf full of bottles close enough that he could figure out what was what. Conditioner. Women used that right? They'd never managed to stay still in a shower together long enough for him find out. She kept going as he rubbed something that smelled like coconut through the web of darkness that flowed down her back. ::Reborn in blood. Needed a different name. Was going to have an eye taken out, going to go be a spy.::

She shuddered against him. ::Was something to do. Got him away from that life, from the feds looking for him. Ten years of blood and pain and the _hell_ will anyone ever walk all over me again.:: Her voice changed, and he could almost hear the old man echoing through her memories of him. The rage, the stark naked fury in it, it startled him. It was like a mirror. Only not quite. As vicious as it sounded, the old man hadn't had an animal buried inside, just waiting to break out and wreak havoc.

::Don't be so sure.:: The conditioner was out, and he finger combed her hair, his enjoyment of the way it felt streaming with water and twining around his fingers an odd contrast to the seriousness of her voice. ::Had _something_ inside. Loved the violence of it. Entered law enforcement, rose in the ranks. Got noticed.:: She hitched herself a little closer. ::And not for being gentle.::

The picture she painted was interesting. Very interesting. But it made him wonder. How did a man like that, a man who seemed cousin to himself, go from the blood and the pain to being a holy man? Whatever branch of Christianity he'd landed in, he didn't figure any of it matched very well with that sort of personality. He knew he'd certainly never come around to that point. The call for blood was too strong.

River giggled and bit his collarbone gently, sending fire and hyper awareness of every bit of her that touched every bit of him racing for his brain. He dropped his head to her shoulder and took it in his teeth, worrying at it like a dog with a bone. She gasped, stiffened, and then went limp. ::Distractions,:: she muttered, and pulled away. He followed just long enough to let her know he could end the conversation right there, bit down one last time, and leaned back to meet her eyes. They were glazed, lids at half-mast, and her throat worked.

He grinned. ::That all there is to the story then?::

::No.:: She poked him in the ribs. ::Given command early in the war. Coordinated the ambush set up. Was jettisoned for his failure.:: She shook her head. ::Not only from the Alliance. Could have gone much further, could have worked his way deeper in. But the Independents had to take the opportunity or lose their ships. The Alliance tossed him in an escape pod and pretended it hadn't happened. Neither knew how long the war would go on.::

He left off running his fingers through her hair and started separating it out into sections, twisting them up into ropes and draping them around her shoulders. She gave him a wry look, but didn't complain. ::Six years, living on the streets. Too angry, too prideful to make something better of himself. Saw God,:: her face twisted, and he bit back a growl. ::Wanted purpose. Found forgiveness and a better way.:: She ducked her head and he grabbed for the ropes of hair before they could come undone. He had a plan for them.

She stilled, and let him rearrange them on her shoulders. After a moments silence he rested his lips against the crown of her head, inhaling the coconut of the conditioner over the apples and rain and wet earth rising from her. ::And then,:: he prompted.

She twitched her shoulders like she was going to shrug, but stopped mid-motion. ::Really did believe. Clung to it. But never forgot. Never lost who he'd been. Went to walk in the world a spell. Found _Serenity_. Thought he could be preacher to them, to a flock of misfits. Have his cake and eat it too. The violence still called. He still had the itch, deep down. Left, because it was becoming too easy to strike and harder and harder to keep himself from liking it.::

Riddick snorted. That, right there. The reason he'd never stop being who he was. Wouldn't even try. He wasn't interested in being a better man. Not if that was the price. Pulling his teeth and claws and running when they started to grow back in again. Something occurred to him though, and he pushed the question her way as he started winding the ropes of hair over and under and around each other.

River leaned her head against his chest and sighed. ::There is a time for secrets. And a time when they must be shared. Never, never wanted to Captain to learn as much as he has. Could have killed Paul for that. Almost did.:: She jabbed him in the side before he could let his joy at the thought get too out of control. ::Shepard never told. Wasn't ashamed…just tired of justifying himself. They knew he had a past, knew he'd had connections and a hand at violence. Captain only had an inkling as to why. Book told him he didn't want to stop caring about the violence he could do. Hit the Captain once. Left before he could stop caring if he hit him again. And again. Till every bad decision or wrongheaded plan meant blood and bruises and a little bit of faith and friendship lost.:: She rubbed her nose against his shoulder and he could feel the extra heat from her tears as they trickled down her face.

::You miss him.:: It was less a statement and more a question. She didn't seem to hold much with God, but she'd liked the old man well enough. He could feel it in how her mind twisted around his and in the flavor of the memories she had of him. One in particular, which the animal pushed up in front of him.

River caught it, and smiled as she buried her face in its fur. :: Jayne saw a psycho with a knife. Book saw…possibilities. Suspected what the Doctors may have done to her. Wasn't sure if she knew what she was doing all the time. But when she made the men 'fall down', the men who would have attacked the ship when they thought it was unguarded; then he knew. Knew and saw and even when she taunted him with the ease he could have done it too, accepted the knowledge. Prayed for her, thinking he knew what she'd been made into. Prayed she'd be strong enough to come through it.:: She sighed and he let his hands still as he listened to her heart beat against his chest and let the animal and the man take all the pieces she'd given him and examine them.

He decided he may have liked this Shepard, much better than Imam even. Although, given what she was telling him, he doubted the man would have had much use for him. If only because one had turned willingly from a path of blood; and the other had been born with a lust for it so ingrained in his being that he'd characterized an entire personality to take care of the need for it. Although he'd always thought of it as an animal, crawling under his skin. The fur and the tree and all of that were River's fault. She was landscaping his brain was what she was doing.

The girl giggled at that mental image, but sobered almost instantly. "He would have liked you," she said, her breath ghosting over his skin and gooseflesh erupting under her lips.

He fisted his hand in the mass of partially braided hair and pulled her head back. ::And why's that,:: he asked as he covered her mouth with his.

She moaned and shifted against him, but could not be turned from her purpose. The girl had draped herself over the shoulders of the animal and was watching the man below as he stared up at her. ::Because you treat the girl as the girl. Something even he had trouble with, when she looked at him with eyes that knew what he'd been. Reminded him of_ kuān shù,_ the forgiveness he'd always be looking for and wondering if he really wanted.::

A lock clicked somewhere in his brain, a door slammed shut with them inside it. Certainty landed on him like a ton of bricks and he pulled away to stare down at her. Had it been premonition, those calculations she liked to talk on, or had she maneuvered them into this on purpose? Either way, he could feel her intent dancing around the edges of his consciousness, relentless and unwilling to be denied. She'd wormed the conversation, wormed _him _around to this topic and there would be no getting away. He could out muscle her. Could bury his dick in her and pound until neither of them knew where they were, but she'd just come right back to it. It was festering wound, and it was closing over fast. The events of the night before and the day still simmered between them, and as long as she was in his mind, wrapped around the animal and looking at him with those huge dark eyes in the physical plane, he wasn't getting away from this. Fuck it all anyways.

She twitched, almost shrank away, and straightened imperceptibly. Grumbling and muttering to himself, he picked her up, set her aside, and levered himself to his feet. She waited, one hand laced with his and the mess of braids he'd been playing with twining over her shoulders like a nest of dark snakes. He shoved resignation and frustration her way as he turned off the shower, slid open the door, and stepped out, dragging her with him. She didn't complain as he dropped his hold on her to grab a towel and wrap it around his waist, and only offered a faint smile as he bundled her up in another one like a child before swinging her into his arms and stalking out to the main room.

Someone had been there while they'd sat under the pounding water. He wanted to be disturbed that he hadn't heard them, that River hadn't picked up on them; but the food they'd left on the table nixed that instinct. He didn't know when he'd eaten last. Last night sometime. Or yesterday afternoon. The food in the entry of this fucking warren hadn't appealed. He'd been or focused on keeping his temper, on the leash around his neck that was preventing him from getting up and _gutting_ the man who sat so calmly in front of them. Now, with River in his arms and things finally calmed down a bit, he realized he was starving. Good to know he had his priorities in order at least, and that his body hadn't betrayed him at any point.

River giggled as she followed his train of thought and was reaching for a bowl of grapes before he even managed to sit down. He grumbled at her, but let her pop one in his mouth as he got himself situated. Girl in lap, towel still wrapped around her, feet up on a chair he'd kicked out from under the small table, he leaned back and let her feed him a couple more before grabbing the bowl from her and returning the favor.

::Now,:: he set the bowl aside and pulled the towel out from under her so he could start drying her off. ::Say what you need to say. Not plannin' on talking very long. Got better things to do.:: She glared at him, cheeks full of grapes and looking like a tree rodent, but couldn't keep the façade going as he worked his hands down her back and then around her hips.

She was silent for a moment, in mind and body. He watched her, thumbs rubbing circles over her thighs, then down to her knees and back. Finally, when he thought he'd actually had her distracted enough to forget, she leaned into his shoulder and ran a hand along the back of the animal. ::Don't know what forgiveness feels like,:: she said. ::Don't know what to do about it if someone offers it.::

He growled and managed to swallow the food in his mouth so he could speak out loud. "River…"

She glared up at him. "Was trying to forgive. Was trying to forget. But the _hwoon dahn_ just couldn't leave it alone. Had to keep going over the memories. Bringing them up. Asking her for help. Thought the wound was all cleaned out and he went and poured grit in it." She huffed and crossed her arms and it looked ridiculously sexy. "Had to keep rubbing her face in her weakness."

He growled and glared down at her, trying to get his thoughts in order, trying to figure out what to say. They'd gone over most of this already, since she'd yelled at him at the monastery and tried to kill him over it. By the time they'd made it into Mik-lat itself he'd thought they'd pretty much gotten themselves sorted. She was pissed that he'd seen her weak, and that he'd tried so hard to go over the memories of her time on this planet. He'd just been waiting for her to go off on him again, not trusting that she wasn't going to hold the events of the night before against him.

In the deepest part of him, the part the animal guarded and the man tried to ignore, he knew that he'd deserve it. What he'd done, what he'd forced to the surface in her…if someone had tried that on him he would have torn them limb from limb. Knowing that he'd thrown the entirety of his life at her in a fit of rage, trying to terrify her, only made it partially bearable. The fact that she knew everything about him; that she accepted him for it was far greater help. But he still woke sometimes wondering how it was she tolerated him, how she could look at him and see anything but what he'd been. Not a man. An animal, bloodthirsty and enraged. He was the one who should have been left. He was the one who hurt and bullied until he got what he wanted.

Small hands grabbed him by the ears and yanked his head down for a kiss so full of heat and longing that he thought it might actually set him ablaze. Shock tore through his mind, followed swiftly by a torrent of water. She'd squirmed around to face him, towel fallen around her hips and the rest of her plastered against his chest. Their skin stuck and rubbed, still damp from the shower and the muggy air in the room.

He brought his hands up to her ribs, then her back, and held her as close as he could without squeezing her in half. ::What…: he managed, though he didn't know how.

::Shut up,:: she snarled, the weapon yanking the man back underwater and the girl booting the animal off of the tree branch.

It wasn't the stream he fell into. It was a lake. An ocean. Blue sky above and a peace he hadn't felt since they were along together on the _Hound_. Floating next to him was the girl, flat on her back, staring up at the sky, hair a swirling mass around her head. He had the brief, impossible thought that it was going to be a _tangled_ swirly mess soon, and he'd just gotten it untangled and what the fuck was he even thinking about her _hair _for when there were far more important things to notice? Like the fact that she was stark naked and so was he.

She slipped underwater before he could act on the impulse to grab her. Dread set in. This was her domain, just as the tree and the cave were his. If she felt like it, she could just yank him under and keep him there. He didn't know why it bothered him so much, being caught here. He didn't know why he was bothered at all. He was Richard B. fucking Riddick after all, temper like a live grenade and more deadly than three companies of mercs. What the fuck did he have to be afraid of? Why did he fear at all?

The water remained empty, and he couldn't feel any shifting around him to tell him where she was. Almost, he ducked under to go looking for her. The animal balked. The man thought of all the reasons she shouldn't let him out of the water at all. It was starting to piss him off, the uncertainty of it. Where the fuck had she gone anyways?

A weight landed on his back, and he felt the waters close over his head. Just as suddenly as she'd hit him, she was gone again. He popped back to the surface, gasping for air and turning to find her. A serrated metal leg vanished beneath the surface, just out of arm's reach, and he growled. She'd trapped him, stuck him in unfamiliar territory and was fucking _taunting_ him. What was the point to this anyways?

A hand closed over his foot and he kicked out .But she'd yanked him under and let go and was gone without him ever connecting. Growling he reached for a blade, and realized too late he was weaponless. The man was truly pissed now. The animal just as angry, but its head was tilted and it looked like it was noticing something he wasn't. For a second he thought of dropping the man entirely, letting the animal rule and finding out just what was nagging at it. Only the thought of what it might do to the girl with the rage it contained stopped him. No matter that this was only in their heads. No matter that the weapon was playing with him. If he let the animal off the chain, if he let it take over, they could both come out shredded, maybe permanently damaged. Who knew what that would do in the long run? Both to them and the bond.

It wasn't worth the risk.

Blades sank into his shoulders, driving deep into the joints and immobilizing him as pain tore through his body. He roared and thrashed and the weapon sank sharp teeth into his ear. Edged heels dug into his sides, and he could feel the skin, muscle and internal organs shredding as she sliced a little deeper with every move he tried to make. Finally the animal came to the fore, pushed the man aside, and did the only thing it could think to do.

It quite fighting and sank.

Down, into depths so deep the light didn't reach. If it hadn't been for his vision he wouldn't have seen the monsters that lurked there. Huge teeth and bulging eyes set into the faces of the crew, of the people around her. Some had huge fins like sails. Others had lines of luminescent color striping their bodies. They twisted and wove and twined around each other as they watched him approach, draw level, and descend even further. He wondered why they didn't attack or follow, but then he saw nets of shining gold, anchored with corkscrew spikes into the face of the cliff behind them.

Down, he went. Until he saw bare sand and the littered debris of a home. Rich furnishings draped in weeds, a toy clogged with algae. A portable Cortex and a set of odd looking slippers were half buried in what he guessed was a little girl's bedroom. The walls sagged, and barnacles and various sorts of shellfish clung, covering picture frames and the dancing ponies that leaped along the walls.

In the corner though, was something different. Smooth metal, pitted by salt, framed a chair. It wasn't a comfortable chair. The pad on the seat was for form's sake only. The fittings were metal, and their gleam was eerie when compared with the rest of his surroundings. There were restraints built into it. Cuffs for the wrists. A mockery of a crown for the head.

River rose from the chair and paced forward, kicking up little clouds of sand as she came. The animal growled at the blankness in her eyes, and the man wanted to reach forward and shake her till she snapped. He rooted himself to the seabed with the power of his will alone and forced himself to meet that gaze as she stepped right up to him. She studied him, face impassive, and he fought the rumble in his chest and tried not to wonder why he didn't need to breath.

::This is how it was,:: she said. The lips didn't move. Her voice echoed oddly through the water. ::Every time you tried to make sense of the time in Mik-lat. Every time you tried to force coherency. Like waiting for the attack. Knowing it would come. Knowing the girl would be helpless to stop it. Helpless to avoidit. They took her no-fear after all. They come when you call. _She_ comes when called. Can't stay out of people's heads. Has to build walls in her own. Take their secrets and fears and cage them up, keep them safe so it doesn't come tumbling out like Jack and Jill.::

She shifted on her feet, and he felt his muscles tighten in readiness. ::Wanted to show you how it felt, to know the attack is coming, just not know how or where. It _hurt_ Riddick,:: she raised a palm and placed it on his chest, over the spot where the handprint would glow blue. ::Hurt knowing you didn't know how bad. Hurt knowing you'd take things the girl can't put in order and try to force them into line.

::And get stuck. Always stuck on enveloping cloth and buckles bright and walls of white. Soft and padded, nothing dangerous here. Nothing but a girl who doesn't know if she's a girl or a weapon or a screaming ball of chaos.::

Her hair floated around her face as she tipped it up, as if basking in sunlight only she could feel. He concentrated on her words, on tying the animal into them and nailing it down before it could overpower the man and devour her. If she noticed, she didn't give any sign. ::Have to get past it. _Have_ to. Until you do, until you can find the girl as she came out on the other side of those days of light and bright and the world is dying and people are screaming and _please God make me a stone_…until you can reach past that she will be forever stuck. She will degrade, revert. Walking up the downslide is inadvisable.:: She shuddered, and something like life flickered in those pools of dark brown. It was gone just as suddenly; and the lifeless puppet looked up at him through long lashes as hair and drifts of sand floated around her.

::Where is the warrior of the night,:: she whispered, and the sound scraped at his ear and set the fur of the animal on end. :: Carries the stars in his eyes as he battles in Xibalba. Will he rise or say forever in darkness?:: She shook herself, head to toe, and stood looking at him with panicked eyes. ::She doesn't know what she's saying. She never knows what she's saying!:: Her voice was rising, frantic and terrified, raw with anguish.

He tried to reach forward and found himself trapped. The weapon had left her blades in his joints, and to move induced agony of a sort he hadn't felt since he'd nearly died of Spitfire venom, all those years ago.

::Put a bullet to her! Bullet in the brainpan. Squish squish squish as it rattles around and churns it all to paste.:: She was swaying on her feet now, looking at something in the middle distance with horror in her face. ::Better for everyone that she'd never been born. Not with so many brains. Not with a proto-Reader creeping under her skin. Or better to put her down. Kill her quick, like an ailing pet. Can't be a danger if she's dead.::

Fury rose, boiling the waters around them to steam, and he roared with the animal's voice as he wrenched himself forward and enveloped her in his arms. He was still roaring, wordless rage overpowering the words he knew he should be trying to say. But all the animal could think was that she wanted to leave them. That this was her final punishment for the violation of her mind the night before. And it refused, in the most absolute of terms, to accept it. To let her think it, to _dare_ to act on it. She said she had to come when he called? He'd show her. He'd tie her to him with ropes and stakes. Pour out buckets of blood if it meant never having her leave his side, his head, again. Ever. Fucking bitch thought she'd leave him did she?

And then he was back in the chair, cold as could be. She shook and shivered and wept against him as he snarled and growled and couldn't find his voice. She smelled of steel, charcoal in spades, and enough cool water to chase every other scent from the room. He was drowning in it, drunk and high all at the same time. Was this what a hype felt like, tripping on the drugs and powders and who knew what else they took? He knew his body was there, human shaped and covered in skin, but the animal was the one holding her to him like she'd vanish if he let go. It was the animal with its teeth sunk in her shoulder, blood filling its mouth as he went through skin and into muscle. If he hooked into her with everything he had, she'd never be able to leave. Never be able to stray.

Never be able to die.

It was her whimper that brought him back to himself. Not of pain, at least not physical pain. It came at the end of a sobbing breath, trailing out like a kitten mewling for its mother. Slender fingers of steel dug bloody half-moons into his skin as she clutched at him and her teeth on his collarbone ground as she tried to keep from crying aloud. He blinked, stunned at the switch from animal to man, and tried to loosen his arms to let her breathe a bit better. She only clung tighter.

But at least he had control of himself now. Gently as he could he sucked the last of the blood from her shoulder, licked a trickle of it from her upper arm, and sat back to press his forehead to hers. It took a couple of tries before he remembered how to speak in words instead of growls, but she didn't seem to notice.

"River," he croaked finally, throat as dry as a desert and lips as raw as ground meat.

"She is with you," she whispered against his neck, answering the thought he couldn't vocalize. "Always with you." She choked on a sob and hitched her legs a little further around his waist. "Had to make to you see though. She tried and tried to forgive, but there you were, waiting for her to condemn you. All the while-" She shook her head violently, slapping him with the still wet hair that dripped down her back. He ran his fingers through the rivulets of water, tracing patterns across her skin, and she settled a little. "All the while having her weakness brought to the fore, again and again. Reminding her of what she was. Of how weak she was, how broken she'd been."

The man was irritated. The animal inordinately pleased with her words. She'd said _was_. Past tense. So something he'd said today, something he'd baited her with had sunk in.

She snorted and dug her fingers a little deeper. ::Stupid,:: she muttered, as she clambered back up into the tree. ::Of course she heard you. Of course it sank in. Just…:: She sighed, and shifted against him, reminding him that except for the towels, come undone sometime in the past few minutes, they were both very naked. ::Need to listen to the girl now. Need to get past the room. Find the result on the other side. And,:: she sat up to jab him in the chest. ::Need to recognize that you are, in fact, jealous.::

For a moment he almost dumped her to the floor, indignation coming to the surface and sending another growl ripping past his lips. She poked him again, and glared up at him. Tear tracks streaked her face, her eyes were bloodshot, and she looked, in general, like she'd been drug backwards through hell. It was beautiful, and he couldn't look away. The animal was still snarling, but the man blocked its way. He knew she was right. At least his head did. The rest of him still wanted to go find Paul and bleed him out, one fucking drop at a time. Preferably as he lowered him into a pit of bioraptors. It sounded like a pretty good plan.

A kiss on his cheek startled him out of the bloodlust, and she was grinning at him, inches from his face, arms draped over his neck as she shifted against him. "Stupid," she muttered, before leaning forward to run her tongue down the outside of his ear. "Very stupid."

He growled and tried to yank her down, get her to speak sense. But she'd gotten on her knees somehow, braced on his thighs, and was gifting him with a face full of small round breasts as she planted slow kisses over his skull. If he hadn't been so confused by the sudden change in temper, he'd have been able to do more than run his hands up her back and take a nipple into his mouth.

She gasped and rocked forward, and he added just a hint of teeth to scrape over the hard bud he was playing with. ::Tricksy,:: she groaned, and managed to pull herself free. He didn't want to let her, but she was centering up on his dick as she let her knees drop outside his legs and sat herself back down; and he figured it was a fair compromise. For the moment at least.

"Why am I stupid," he managed to grit out as she got herself comfortable, lips of her clit right up against his shaft. Her eyes were glazing, and if she didn't spit it out soon he'd never give her the chance.

"They never saw the girl," she whispered into his chest, drawing her nails down his abs like a cat. "Never saw the girl." She bit, just enough to make him jerk in place. "Saw _a_ girl. A girl in pieces, who'd come crawling to them for help. Were sincere in their wish to make her better." Her tongue flicked out, tasting the sweat trickling down his sternum, and he was amazed he was even able to process her words. His hands were wandering, still playing with the drips of water down her back, moving up to bury themselves in her hair and retwist the braids before dropping to her hips and rocking her against him. She mewled and squirmed and stars popped behind his eyes as she nosed up under his chin and made him tip his head back so she could trail her lips up his neck.

::Never saw _the_ girl. The whole. The parts. All of her. Were satisfied that they'd helped put her back together, but never took off the wrapping. Never unveiled the new creation.:: The weapon had found the man at the base of the tree and was twining around him, melting herself in runnels of liquid steel that burned him to the core and then solidified, catching him up in a cage such as he'd never known. He never wanted to leave. Didn't think he'd ever be able to spend an hour without apples and rain, vanilla, charcoal, steel, cool water and witch-hazel burning their way through his brain.

He tried to be angry when he realized he was glowing again, pulsing light flickering across bodies slick with water and sweat, but he couldn't bring himself to care. In the cave at his center a moat had formed around the fire, bottom lined in speckled metal that shone like stars in the steadily building hum of the light he was giving off. Where those jaguar spots? Or eclipsed stars in the patina?

Did it matter?

::It is the foundation. The anchor of one to another.:: She'd taken his jugular in her teeth, a far more arousing thing than he'd thought would be possible in such a position of vulnerability, and she bit gently before trailing her nose down to the hollow of his throat. ::The Riddick is the only one. Only man, only being in all the 'Verse to ever see her entire. See the broken and not fear it. See the weapon and not pity. See the girl in all her cracked and patched and faded state of repair and accept her as she is.::

Her mouth found his again, and for the millionth time, he was glad that they could speak mind to mind. He was too busy memorizing her lips, and she'd started a small war with his tongue behind his teeth. She was rocking her hips against him, tiny little jerks, as if she wasn't even aware she was doing it. Warm vanilla wept from her, mixing with his musk and fur; and the combination of fluids was making all the little motions of her hips even more electrifying. He was going to come undone against her, spill himself all over her lap if he didn't get inside her _right now_. But she resisted when he tried to pick her up and bring her into alignment. He growled, frustrated and she sat back to glare at him.

"Find the girl on the other side," she snarled, lips pulled back over her teeth as she ground her hips against him and then stilled completely. He groaned and yanked her against him, burying his face in her neck and taking a healthy bite before sucking hard. She shuddered, hands raking patterns of fire down his chest, and mewled in his ear.

He didn't know the words were coming, didn't know the animal had taken over. All he knew was that his skin was on fire and she was glowing in the reflected light and she looked so fucking _beautiful_, all pissed off and horny and God knew what else. She was psychotic, sure. A nest of scorpions he really shouldn't be trying to kick over if he valued his own worthless hide. She was also tiny and graceful and danced as if she was burning up from the inside out. She tamed him in a way he'd never allow otherwise, and made him want to tear the galaxy apart if anything should happen to her.

She was his.

"Idiot," the animal growled against her mouth, and she gasped at the sound of it. "Don't need to look for her. She's right here." And he forced her up, over, and down. She hissed and keened as he filled her, tight hot walls clamping around his shaft and sliding as she twitched and bucked in his grasp.

He lasted one thrust. Two. Then three.

On four she lunged, caught his mouth and shrieked into it as she clenched up tighter than a vice and ground down. He met the force, burying himself so deep in her he could feel her cervix, and knew he was spilling himself straight into her. The animal roared, ground again, and convulsed as she forced him deeper and deeper, riding out the pleasure in jerking shudders like she was being electrocuted. How he kept the energy under his skin from blasting outwards and incinerating them both he had no idea. He thought it might have gone inwards, giving his last convulsive thrusts extra power as their minds were seared and consciousness left behind in a haze of warm vanilla and spicy musk.

Edited 7/28- Oops. Lost a paragraph somehow. Fixed it!

**Author's Note: ** Ya know, when I started this chapter, I wasn't really aiming for "screwing themselves unconscious", but whatever works I guess. Really, I just needed to wrap up all the anger, hurt, jealousy, violation of trust, and etc before I could go on to the next variation of hell. This all needed to be taken care of, because what comes next might just break them for good, and if they don't know where they stood with each other, if Riddick didn't make an effort to get past the straightjacket and the padded room, they were never going to be able to move forward. And if he didn't realize that she could forgive him, _did_ forgive him, and wasn't looking to exact much in the way of vengeance, all he would end up doing would be to keep looking over his shoulder. Waiting for that shoe to drop that never would and it would just torture her more. I hope this answers some questions as to motivations, whys and wherefores.

As always, they aren't mine. Oh how I wish though…

And as always, thanks ever so for reading, for reviewing, for faving and following. Love you all so much!

Shenandoah76209: Eeeeeh. We'll have to see. Want to take bets on who snaps first? Glad you liked it. I almost took out the Zoe crying part, but I figured that's what she'd gone out there to do, and he just walked in on it. But she does have something to her. Strength indeed. It makes me want to toy with a Zoe/Riddick pairing…Ah. Crackfic. Hope this answers some of that huge long conversation we had a while back.

Rachet: Glad you liked! Hope you keep enjoying!

Guineverkay: Yeah, I hated those two movies. Watched Vanilla Sky with my host family when I was in Japan, and even they didn't get it. And Japan has a fair number of mind bender movies. Did you know they're remaking _Butterfly Effect_? /shudder. Glad you like the interaction with those two. And yeah, I can't see her letting go of the feelings towards River so easy. I think she's had time over the years, and set most of it aside, but now that she's in striking distance of Paul it's all coming back.

Translations:

_hwoon dahn_-bastard

_kuān shù_-to forgive **/** forgiveness

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Lilac: mischief


	43. Chapter 43

Ch. 43

_All of this can be broken,_

_All of this can be broken,_

_Hold your devil by his spoke and spin him to the ground._

"Devil's Spoke" Laura Marling

He was starting to get used to waking up like this. For a moment he was mildly surprised, but then the animal gave him a look and turned its back on him and he decided it was probably best to just sit and appreciate it. Who knew what fucked up pile of shit he'd step in next? Better to savor the moment and not worry about mobility, being attacked, or anything else like that. After all, it was equal chances that the next person to try and open his insides to air would be the girl draped over his chest. Actually, unless he really managed to fuck things up, the only other person he probably had to worry about at this point was Mal, and the man would have to work fairly hard to get the drop on him. Unless he called in the rest of his crew of course.

Face buried in his shoulder, legs hanging of either side of the chair and her hands somehow pinned up against his chest, River muttered in her sleep and shifted against him. In his head, she rolled over and kicked out at the animal before going back to being curled up against the man's side. He stilled, waiting to see if she'd come all the way awake, but she was back to breathing deeply, even snoring a tiny bit. He smirked. He still hadn't told her she did that. He was saving it for a time when she'd truly gotten herself worked into a fit over something. It'd be entertaining as hell, that was for sure.

He heard footsteps in the hall. When they stopped outside their door he sighed, dropped his feet, and bundled the girl back up in her towel. It was mostly dry, and her hair had turned into a mass of twisted coils, all dried that way and caught on each other. She was probably going to try and kill him, just for that. If it came untangled at all.

She muttered again when he laid her on the bed, and he had to pry her fingers from his wrist. He'd chucked his pants who knew where the night before, and whoever was out there was working up the nerve to knock. No time to go hunting. Snagging his goggles from the bed, he grabbed the towel he'd left behind on the chair and wrapped it back around his hips. Modesty was a luxury to him, but he had the feeling that if he opened the door and one of the women was there, he'd be in for a world of hurt from a lot of different people.

It was Kaylee. With Sierra on one hip and an insulated jug in the other hand. He blinked down at her, and then at the mugs the little girl was holding up towards him. Kaylee laughed, and he frowned at her as he took the mugs from Sierra. "Ya'll missed breakfast," she said, and offered the jug. "Woulda just let you two sleep, or get back to sexin', but Cap'n says we gotta figure out what to do next. And the next window on the satellite is comin' up." Her face was puzzled, but he wasn't too surprised. Surveillance and keeping away from it were things out of her realm of expertise after all. Getting that busted up pile of scrap she called her baby fixed _was_. He had a feeling as to how this meeting was going to go, and grumbled to himself at the prospect. If that stubborn ass of a man who called himself Captain thought they'd just lift back off into space and wait for news, he had another thing coming.

But there was no point in getting the young woman in front of him all riled up over it. That would come soon enough. Nodding his thanks, he went to step back through the door.

"You don' like me much, do ya?"

That face, all full of innocence out of keeping with the life she led, was turned up to him and her dark eyes were sad. He could smell it on her, trickling through the rich tang of her pregnancy, and even Sierra seemed to have noticed something wrong. The child was making what he guessed were supposed to be soothing noises as she patted the woman's hair. Kaylee leaned her head against the little girl's for a moment, but kept her gaze on him.

He had a million answers, one of which consisted of just walking back into the room and shutting the door in her face. Another hit too close to old memories for the man and animal both. The one he chose was going to be hurtful, but just as honest as the rest. "You can't take care of yourself."

She went rigid, anger coming to the fore as she opened her mouth to snap at him.

"Defenseless." He cut her off, and tried to make his voice just a little less harsh. She didn't so much look the same, but she acted the same. Had the same hope in her eyes. Who would he have been, if he hadn't failed the first girl who looked at him with that kind of hope?

"It's fine. You're the engineer. But," he leaned down to look her in the eye, careful not to lose the towel in the process. "Come time to fight, you're another body. Two actually, that need guarding. And people tend to die around me." He straightened back up, trying to ignore the shock and hurt in her scent and face. Sierra was glaring at him, and he hooked the mugs onto the fingers of the hand that had the jug and clamped the other one over the girl's mouth. "You too kid." He looked back at Kaylee. "People like you, worst kind of people to know me."

He was half turned around, back to the dark of the room behind him, when she opened her mouth again "Well you're just an ass Riddick. Think runnin' off with River's gonna keep us all safe?" She snorted explosively. "_Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiouh doh sai-jin wuh duh pee-goo_! One reason we're all still here," she snapped. "And its cause family don't abandon one 'nother." Still grumbling and growling, she hitched Sierra a little higher on her hip, paused to let the girl stick out her tongue at him, and stalked off.

A laugh snapped him out of the surprised stare he was sending after the woman, and he looked back into the room to see River sitting up on the bed, giggling. He growled, kicked the door shut, and dropped the jug and the mugs on the table. "Think its funny do you," he muttered.

She snorted, choked, and shook her head as she crawled over to the edge and stood. He watched her, skin a pale expanse of perfection marred only by the evidence of their recent struggles. The bite mark on her shoulder was going to scar, and they should probably get it cleaned out. She had a huge bruise, shaped like his mouth of course, at the base of her neck. There was a collection of smaller ones up and down her arms, along her hips, and on the insides of her thighs, all in various tones of black to what he guessed was putrid yellow-green. Her brother was going to have a fucking _fit_ when he saw the latest additions to the tally. He was amazed none of her crew'd said anything so far. He had a feeling that was going to change come this morning, if only because those two bastards who called themselves holy men were going to want to poke and prod and ask questions of them.

She was in arm's reach now, and dodged easily as he tried to snag her. He reached again, and caught her as she slipped away from the first hand and ran right into the second. Apples and rain, vanilla, and the coconut shit he'd stuck in her hair floated after her. He pulled her into his lap as he dropped back into the chair. She didn't complain, beyond trying to elbow him in the gut.

::Still touchy on the F-word.:: she sang in his head as she picked up the jug and cracked the seal. Coffee. Hot. Black. Fresh. And strong enough to stand a blade in if the smell was any indicator.

He wrapped his arms around her waist before cradling the mug she poured for him between his hands. ::Never gonna be one of them,:: he said finally. ::Not like them.::

Bitter herbs came and went, and something tightened around her eyes. In the tree, she sighed and prodded the animal with one bare foot. ::Don't have to be like them. They are disparate. A Companion and a Browncoat. Warrior woman who married a clown. A very smart clown, but still.:: She grinned, and lilacs overrode the herbs that lingered ::He juggled geese and gave the dinosaurs voice.::

Frowning, Riddick sat back and sipped his coffee, trying not to wince at the taste. It would have been better if he could have used it for something besides cleaning fuel lines. Who the hell made it anyways?

::Jayne is closest to what you may be used to. But he has sisters. Has a vow. Dotes on a four year old little girl who thinks he's her own personal jungle gym and candy vendor.::

She was shoving mental images his way, and he had to admit the big gun hand looked smitten by the chubby hands that pounded at his face, or yanked on his beard. ::Kaylee,: she sighed and leaned over, forcing him to move the mug out of the way so she could lay her ear against his chest. Peat now, just a touch. ::Kaylee is the sunshine, the beating heart. Reminds them of good things, of people who live normal lives.::

He growled. ::Still don't know how she hasn't died yet.::

::You protect the heart. Can't live without it.:: She shrugged and sat up, pressing a kiss to his jaw before going back to her coffee. How could she drink it?

"Lots of things you can't live without. Lungs. Kidneys." He set his mug aside and twined his fingers up into the knotted mass around her shoulders. "Brain."

She snorted and twitched away from him. "What do you think a family is? Bits of a body, together making a whole. "

He pulled his goggles off, and turned her head so she'd meet his eyes. "And what bit do you think I'd be? What could I do that none of the rest of them can't handle?"

An onslaught of visuals hit, some irreverent, some serious. All possibilities. All options. He grunted and shunted the pile from the animal to the man. The animal saw where to strike, disable, maim. The man saw other uses for them. Opportunities. Chances. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, he reminded himself that he'd managed to deal with others. To work with others. Even trusted a few, before they died or stabbed him in the back with all the good intentions in the galaxy. He was getting a feel for these people now, a little bit at a time. They kept surprising him with new facets, new sides.

"Yes," the girl said simply. "They are different. They should not fit. But they do. Like the girl and the Riddick." She stretched her arms wide and he tore his eyes from her breasts to meet her gaze. Wry humor was overshadowed by a serious glint, and cool water had entered the mix of scents in the air. "But who would look at her next to him and think they fit together like one hand in another?"

He laughed, nearly tipping himself backwards in the chair, and she threw her weight the other way to compensate. Gathering her close, arms around her hips and face buried in her chest, he let the last rumbling chuckles out against her ribs and had the satisfaction of feeling her go limp and smelling warm vanilla seep out her pores. Taking her coffee mug in one hand, he set it on the table, then wrapped both hands around her ass and pulled her up against him as he trailed his lips down her ribs. Who needed food anyways? Or coffee? Or anything else? She moaned and brought her hands up to flutter around his head and then neither spoke again as bodies and minds twisted and twined together.

~HHYFN~

She didn't have any spare clothes, so she yanked her old ones over her head, grumbling as she did so. They stank of sweat and the flat air of the jungle city. Riddick's weren't much better. Whatever happened next, they'd need to get their things from the shuttle. Maybe not all. Hopefully not all. But some at least. Clothes. The rest of her knives. The gun cleaning kit. The damp hadn't been kind to any of their gear, and she knew that he was thinking of having to replace the harness. Maybe build a new one himself. Although he didn't know where he'd get the materials. Leather or webbing? Add a couple shoulder holsters for a gun or two?

River listened to his mind as he turned possibilities over and tried to keep her thoughts to herself. She knew where they could get materials for the harness. All she had to do was ask Thomas to find some for him. But she also knew he wouldn't like that. Wouldn't like asking either of the former Operatives for something. It had done more for her than she thought he knew , the fact that he'd taken her side. Stood by her when he was so mad that the animal had nearly won the battle for supremacy in his mind. It had given her hope that she hadn't completely broken his faith in her.

But the thought of Thomas started other thoughts, and they chased themselves through her mind like mice in a maze. She could feel Riddick watching her, trying to follow them, but she wasn't trying to keep track of the paths they took. And if she didn't, he probably couldn't. Heat, leftover musk and sex, given to her by the jaguar as it noted the smells he himself didn't keep track of longer than it took to note their existence. He stood next to her, fingers tracing up her back as he waited for her to come back to herself.

Vanilla now. She stomped firmly on the urge to knock his feet from under him and undo all the work of having found their clothes and gotten them turned right side in and put on bodies. They had a window approaching; and the yelling and arguing had to be over by then or her family would be stuck under the mountain for another eighteen hours, snapping and growling at anything that got in their way. She didn't think Zoe would be able to take it. Mal either.

So many tempers, so many voices beating at her head. She wanted to crawl back into the shower and drown them out again. Stay in this room and never leave. If she did, if she stayed put, she wouldn't get near them. Couldn't hear them look at her and hate. She'd spoken of family to Riddick. Did she even have one left at all? Or had they realized she was so much more dangerous to them than they'd ever thought Jayne would be and take the first chance they could to head for a place that wasn't here? A place that wasn't staffed by those they'd always thought were enemies.

"Broadcasting." The voice in her ear sent chills down her spine, and she turned her head to look Riddick in the eye. He'd draped on huge arm over her shoulder, the other hand was at her hip, and he was _smirking _ at her. "Thought we covered all this anyways. You went and set up shop in my head." Her knees went weak as he nipped at her earlobe. "So come on home and tell me what's got you so fucked up."

Mik-lat wasn't sanctuary any more. It housed her nightmares. She'd screamed them all out at the walls, and now they seeped through stone to attack her as she sought safety. How could she have thought she could come back? Walking up the downslide. Inadvisable. Stupid. Dangerous.

::River!:: Teeth in her ankle and hands under her shoulders as he picked her up and drug her from the watery expanse of her mind and into his own. Across the stream and up among the roots of the tree, man and animal pinned her down and growled at her.

She gasped, swayed, and clung to the arms around her. ::So sorry,:: she whispered. ::So sorry. This place. It…:: she trailed off, unsure how to put it into words.

He cursed. The animal had picked it out of her mind and translated for her. She flinched, but not at the words. He wanted out of here too. And there was something. Something about mice and logic she couldn't quite remember. A reason she thought they needed to stay, a key to the plan. If only she could trigger the memory.

"Trigger," she blurted, surprising herself into stillness.

Behind her, Riddick froze, curiosity flooding him as he tried to work it out. She burrowed into the animal as he processed it, amazed at herself that she'd forgotten to come to the tree. Forgotten, or had been held back by some deeply buried nugget of resistance; still screaming at the idea that she could no longer stand on her own two feet. She didn't want to know, not right now. Sufficient that she was surrounded by warm fur and a comforting rumble that vibrated right down to the bones.

"Fuck," he muttered, pulling her back against himself. She winced at the anger in his voice, but allowed herself to be held. "You sure about this?"

She wasn't, not at all, and she didn't hide it from him. But neither did she hide the gut wrenching fear that someday, whether it be a week or years from now, that she'd be out of control again. That she'd kill and hurt and maim those around her, and it wouldn't even be because she'd lost her own mind. It'd be because it was taken from her. And now, to add to that, her link with Riddick would send two weapons of immeasurable violence out to wreak havoc on those around them. What if they were with Kaylee or Sierra and it happened? He'd been right. They couldn't defend themselves. Her brother had the words. The hated words. And the others their weapons. But the those two, they had nothing to keep themselves safe.

What if they found Kyra and went in to get her, only to be tripped up by the triggers. Turned into drones for Blue Sun?

But she didn't want to be put down any more. She'd gotten put back together. She had the man and the animal and the rest of her family to live for. They'd do it of course, if she couldn't be stopped. But better to not have to worry about it in the first place. Better to be free, completely and totally, as she hadn't been since they'd cut open her head and started the mental conditioning.

The man and animal were fighting the idea, fighting asking for more help. Skeptical that there was even a chance these men he hated so badly _could_ help them. He had no doubt they would. From what he'd seen of this place; from all the tricky flying they'd had to do to get here, clear port control, and get just the right slip, he had an idea of how guarded this place was. That they'd opened it on the word of a slip of a girl who said only that she needed help; it spoke to how far they were willing to go for her.

Rage rose up in response to the idea, and the animal batted it down in favor of the near gut wrenching rejection of placing himself in _anyone's_ power, of placing _her_ in anyone's power like that. To be under this mountain was one thing. He knew he could get out. But to offer up their minds, on the slim hope that something could be done? What would it take, to get rid of the triggers? What would it do to them, to the bond?

::Think it may be the key,:: River turned in his arms and placed her fingers on his temples. They were both overheating, him with the fury and denial, her with the fear. ::The bond. Heard you, on Persephone.:: She tilted her head and dredge up a smile. ::Down a long tunnel. Voice distorted. Could barely make it out. But heard when you called for her.::

He remembered. He remembered a fog of unreasoning anger. He remembered trying to anchor himself in the world around him so he wouldn't get drug through her head as it turned itself inside out. It hadn't worked. He'd lost himself to bloodlust in a way not even the animal did. He didn't know how he'd managed to pull back to the present, if only for a moment. All he knew was that he'd seen River, battered and snarling, and something had _stretched_ between them. And then it had been gone and he was back to the hunt. Back to playing with his food.

Grumbling, he backed up till he found the bed, then sat and pulled River to stand between his knees. "River…"

She was terrified. He could feel it more than smell it. Charcoal and faint traces of lemon mixed with the cool water of her determination. She stood and waited, stiff as a board and hands fisted at her sides. He knew she would see his thoughts. She'd probably know his choice before he did. Almost certainly.

Because he was still warring with himself, trying to come to terms with what she was asking.

He had a sinking feeling that the process of getting rid of the triggers would involve some form of surrender. He'd have to open up his head to strangers. To enemies. Not just let them command and _decide_ to follow orders. But to let them possibly take control of his body. Without his say so. When Johns had called him like a dog, he'd made the conscious choice to obey. Now though…what would it take from him?

He knew his brain was running itself in circles. He didn't have enough information. He didn't have a fallback point on this. All he had was River's fear and the word of two men who'd-He shied away from that memory. It wouldn't help, it could only hinder. And he'd made himself a silent promise to quit digging through them. Never did he want a repeat of the last day and a half. That he'd nearly broken them so badly was a wound to his conscience that wouldn't close over for a long time.

If the girl caught that last thought, she didn't respond. She was starting to twitch and sway though, and the cool water took over her scent. He looked up at her, trying to let his mind go blank and let the answer float to the top. The animal was no help. It was too busy snarling at the man. He was about to start snarling himself; and pulled her closer so he could bury his face in her stomach where she couldn't see the conflict and frustration on it.

Strong arms, lithe and graceful, draped around his shoulders and held him there. He breathed deep as she sighed.

::Which is a greater violation of the mind,: she asked. ::To open it up? To offer vulnerability of your own free will in hopes that good will come of it?::

Shaking and seizing and puking in his arms….

::Or to not have a choice? To be set off like a bomb, thrown like a grenade at the nearest cluster of bodies and _not_ get to choose when it will happen?:: Her fingers were tracing patterns on the back of his neck, slipping under his shirt and then back out. ::Would you rather aim your wrath, your animal, at those who need killing? Or have the choice taken from you and be unleashed?::

Fucking _logic_.

He growled and she shivered in his grasp. For a moment he considered nosing up her shirt and getting at that expanse of skin that lay beneath it, but he could hear footsteps in the hall and knew they'd run out of time. Fucking _time_, never enough of it to do the things he wanted to her.

The man stopped struggling. The animal stilled. That was the key after all. The things _he_ wanted to do. To her. To have her do to him.

He wasn't built for submission. Wasn't built for kneeling and taking the whip across his back. He was a fucking _Furyan_ and whatever else it might mean to be one, he knew they weren't made to knuckle under. Hell, even the Purifier had shaken the chains in the end. To do this made him vulnerable. It painted the target on his chest and he didn't even know if there was a weapon coming, or how hard it would hit. But to not do this; to deny them both a chance to be free…

"Different sort of fighting," she murmured, and pulled out of his arms so she could crouch before him and look up into his eyes. "Different way to freedom." She cupped his face in her hands, "Not submission."

Whoever it was had stopped outside their door. He thought he knew who it was. He knew River did. Had she heard him coming? Had that been what triggered her sudden insistence? It didn't matter. The man outside knocked, and he rose to his feet; knowing he was growling and not caring. River was smiling, a real smile this time. He took the chance to drop a heated kiss on her lips before lacing his fingers with hers and pulling her across the room, snagging his goggles from the table as he went. ::The shit you get me to do,:: he muttered at her, before opening the door and glaring at Paul.

The man blinked, hand raised for another knock, then nodded. "Good day Mr. Riddick. River. I am truly sorry to intrude, but we are running out of time and Captain Reynolds is getting…impatient."

In his head River rolled her eyes and tucked herself a little deeper into the curl of the animal.

Riddick just raised his eyebrows and finished pulling the goggles over his eyes before crossing his arms and letting his eyebrows rise. "'Sat so? Let him wait." Reaching back for River, he tugged her around in front of him and draped his arms over her shoulders. "We've got another favor to ask you."

**Author's Note:** Well. We've arrived. Sort of. I did have a plan for Mik-lat after all. And here we are. Now they just have to talk Mal out of self-combusting and things should be shiny right?

Right.

Might be sparse on the updates for a bit. DeviantArt is doing a Riddick contest, and I guess there's one going on for a movie poster as well. Both of which are due soon. Hrrrmmm. Think I'm going to be looking at lots of Riddick screencaps for a bit…tough.

As always, they aren't mine. Not River, not Riddick, not Firefly or Pitch Black/CoR. Boo. Cause I'm having fun putting them all through hell. Lots of fun

Shenandoah76209: You've got a point there. Fight=bruises=sex of some sort with these two. Of course, I think they're just looking for an excuse, any excuse to get nekkid. Can you imagine _Shindig_ with Riddick in it? This version of Riddick? Haha! And yeah, I think he gets the whole "Don't rub her nose in her insanity" bit. About time. Thanks for all the help and advice by the way. It's doing loads to improve the story, believe me.

Jazzisabatmanfan: Well, Sierra was in Kaylee's lap for the conversation when they arrived. I assume Kaylee and Simon have her while Zoe's off crying. Or Jayne. He seemed to get roped into being a babysitter fairly often. So glad you're still looking forward to updates!

Rachet: I think I died when I read your comment. Nearly fell out of my chair. I love that line too. And yeah, extreme nesting. Can you imagine if she were pregnant? Poor Riddick. I'm still laughing!

Translations:

_Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiouh doh sai-jin wuh duh pee-goo-__E_verything in space is stuffed up my ass.

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Lilac: mischief


	44. Chapter 44

Ch. 44

_It's just another war_

_Just another family torn_

_(My voice will be heard today)_

_It's just another kill_

_The countdown begins to destroy ourselves_

"Hero" Skillet

The argument they walked into was shaping up to be a spectacular one. It was full of variations on "Well what do we do now," and "Why did we even come here when we could have done all our talking on the ship." The counterarguments ran along the lines of "It will take some time to find the information needed", "It's safer if you stay on Sihnon rather than risk making a target of yourselves when you have to come back to get the news", and "What has been proposed is _not_ a thing to be spoken off where any random catch mike or eavesdropper can hear it!"

The squawks of outrage that last one drew from Mal and Jayne were cut off by the entry of remaining three members of their party. River could feel the anger and frustration, mixed with a healthy dose of confusion. They buffeted at her, and she cringed back into the curve of Riddick's arm over her shoulders. In the tree, the girl latched onto a branch with her legs and buried her face in the fur of the jaguar as it nosed in under the arms she'd wrapped around its shoulders. She had her walls up, blocking as much of the actual thoughts as she could. She didn't want to hear them. Didn't want to hear the accusation and condemnation.

The silence didn't last long. Simon turned purple, his eyes went huge, and he started forward. "River…what-"

Her walls weakened, and the full meaning of his words hit her before he could finish. Riddick caught it, so twined were their minds; and the matched growls the Doctor received were enough to bring him to a stuttering halt. She'd forgotten that her shirt was sleeveless and that Riddick was wearing a tank. The bite marks showed, clear in the bright light. They hadn't cleaned them up. Hadn't even made sure they weren't still bleeding. His weren't as bad, more dents in the skin than actual injuries, and the bruising around them showed only as a darkening of the dermal layer. But hers were much more obvious. Especially the one where her arm met her shoulder. It was deep. It was the one Simon was staring at.

Riddick was rumbling next to her, arm slipping from her shoulder to her waist so he could draw her closer. She let him, still fixed on her brother and the colors he was turning. Around them, her family stared. Their faces held a mixture of shock, assessment and worry. Even Inara, who'd stood for her first, looked a little disturbed. The thoughts running through her head wondered at the force it would have taken to cause an injury like that. River wanted to slap her. She wanted scream. Who were they to judge? Who were they to tell her what she could do, or let Riddick do, with her body? He'd _told_ them he was animal. They'd only partially believed. Didn't they see that nothing he did could ever be quantified by human systems of measurement?

She refused, point blank, to try and justify it. She had pulled him past the brink of sanity, taunted and teased and baited that which should not be baited. She had made her point, in his mind. In the deepest part of herself she was mildly surprised that he'd even regained the ability to talk. It was the animal, always the animal, which facilitated their bond; the mental exchange.

She didn't know much, but she knew that the burning intellect of the man would never have been able to accept the idea of her talking in his head, of setting up shop there. But the animal could. The animal did. So it was the animal at the fore when she'd drained the ocean of her mind and brought them both back to the surface. Of course he'd been clinging to reality the only way he knew how.

With hands and teeth and blood.

It was a small price to pay, in the end.

Before Simon could say anything to get himself killed, or Mal could open his mouth and give voice to the roil of anger that was tearing through his head, Paul stepped forward. His attention was on Thomas, not the crew, and she could hear his choice in her head. It confused her, because she couldn't tell what prompted it. But he was determined to give her the help they'd asked for, and the bite marks and bruises had clinched it. Why or how she didn't know. If he knew, he was keeping it behind careful walls, camouflaged with his short term goal of getting the argument over with before the window had closed.

"It seems that we may be of more use to River than we had previously thought."

The crew gaped. He ignored them. Thomas raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms as he looked from River to Riddick to Paul and back again. She could feel his curiosity like a small fire. He'd always had more of a spark than Paul. Always had more life and humor. He was about to make a comment as to first-aid facilities, and glared at him. He liked to pour salt in old wounds, just to see what reactions he could stir up.

Mal beat the second Operative to the punch. "What's that supposed ta mean, more use? 'Tross, thought we done what we came to do?"

She shrugged, burrowed a little further into the warmth of the jaguar, and did her best to explain. "Request for aid had been tendered. Response rendered. The doubter speaks true. Safety is found in large deposits of igneous material solidified and brought above the surface to reach for the upper atmosphere. Optimal plan would include complete overhaul of systems of metal and wiring that are kept inside the skin of Mother. Gives plausible excuse for staying inside atmospheric conditions that include air, gravity, and friction.

"Besides which, the girl has already stated the she will not consent to sitting in the bridge and allowing the engines to be fired up with the intent of departing the atmosphere and susequent gravity well of Sihnon until such time as a full and complete assessment of repairs is done and the required alterations made.

"In the meantime, as the first request is behind quantified and broken into initial components, then reassembled with the variable solved for; the girl and the Riddick wish to be rid of the behavioral modifications which, if left unattended, will likely cause the early termination of any bipedal of the humanoid persuasion who has the misfortune to be in range when the pins are pulled from their respective grenades. "

There. Let him sort that out.

::You have too many brains girl, you know that?:: But the Riddick was amused. He didn't follow half of it either, but he got the gist straight out of her mind. She gave him a mental nudge, and turned back to Thomas, who _had_ understood the babble, and was looking at her with something like admiration. He'd always liked the babble she could spout at the drop of a hat. Even after she had her mind back together and would do it just to try and drive him away. It had never worked.

"You want to do what?"

River felt Simon's shock and denial. She hadn't doubted he would pick the pertinent phrases out from the rest, but she'd hoped he'd take just a little bit longer. Grumbling in her mind, she glared at her _ge ge_. "You heard the girl," she muttered.

"River," Simon was clutching at his head and full blown panic was setting in. He was having visions of the Maidenhead, of the trouble it had caused. He was afraid. Deathly afraid of the implications and of the fact that she'd asked two men with a known history of doing the Alliance and Blue Sun's dirty work for help. Did she even know what it would take to get rid of the triggers?

"No," she snapped, pulling out of Riddick's grip to stalk over to her brother. Inara was starting to understand, and her comprehension spawned growing horror. Zoe thought she might have an inkling; and River could feel her dread as it billowed up like a mushroom cloud. But none of them mattered. Not even Captain Daddy, who would undoubtedly ask Simon to say the words so she could be drug back to the ship and away from this crazy planet. All that mattered right now was Simon, her _ge ge_. The man who'd given up everything he'd ever known to pull her out of that hellhole in the first place and get her as far away as he could manage. He thought she wanted to go back, to relive it.

He didn't know that she already had.

"No," she glared up at him, hands fisted at her sides. "She does not know for sure. _We_ do not know for sure. Have ideas." He couldn't be allowed to forget Riddick in all this, couldn't be allowed to forget that her bonded was with her in this decision. "But would you rather never know? Never trust another vid screen or ad on the Cortex for fear that _they_ are trying to call her again?" She knocked him in the chest with her fist, enough to rock him back on his heels. "She comes when she's called _ge ge_!" He blanched at the phrase, but she plowed on, ignoring the exclamations of fear from the crew and the spike of anger from Riddick. "Happened on Persephone! Could happen again! And now the Riddick is vulnerable to it as well!" She flung a hand back to point at the man, who was scowling and looking like he was keeping himself in place through sheer force of will. He snarled at her, not happy with that little revelation, but she couldn't spare the attention. The river was calling, and she couldn't just force the images into her brother's head the way she had Riddick's.

Around her, the crew went still, shock and calculation ripping through them. Curiosity and something like awareness came from Paul and Thomas, but she didn't want to delve too deep into their minds to find out why. She'd wrapped herself around the tree trunk in Riddick's mind, and the current of the river pulled at her feet.

Jayne got it first; having been in the bar both times she'd been triggered. He'd been paying more attention to Riddick and how he moved, both when fighting and in relation to herself, than anyone had thought. "_Cao,_" he muttered. "So when we found you…" he trailed off and stared at Riddick, still growling in the doorway. The gun hand shook his head, and reached out for Mal's arm. "Mal, think you better listen ta them on this one. " When the Captain just glared, the man tried harder. "Can you imagine? They ever go wooly someplace ain't contained? Around the girls?"

Riddick shifted, and River gave a swift yank on the waters below her, drowning the building rage of man and animal. He hated it, having a vulnerability put on the spot like this. He also knew Jayne was right. If she ever got triggered again, in a crowded street or a market or even just on the docks, the blood they could shed between the two of them would never be washed away.

In front of her, Simon was putting pieces together. The all slotted into place with perfect alignment, and he was suddenly realizing why the group that had helped him get her out had insisted she go right into cryo and stay that way until she was far beyond their area of influence. She couldn't blame them. It might have been smarter for them to have never let her out. Look at all the trouble she'd caused.

::What the fuck I tell you about that line of thought?:: Riddick's voice ricocheted through her head like the clapper of a bell, and she could feel his rage boil through the waters like they weren't even there. He'd crossed the room in three giant steps and had her by the shoulders, eyes behind the goggles hard and burning. ::You know what long term cryo did to you last time. Know what it does to me. Don't you _dare_ look for a way out of this.::  
She punched him, fist driving up into the solar plexus, and followed it up with another fist to the underside of his jaw. ::Moron,:: she snapped, and felt the weapon slide into place around her. She was too confused to put together a decent curse. ::Why do you think I wanted to ask for help? Fucking inbred piece of goat sucking shit!::

He blinked, startled, and she stopped. Now where had that come from?

A cough by her elbow made her turn, and she stared at Paul. He had a small smile on his face, and she could feel astonishment in the minds of the others. Across the room, Thomas was shaking his head, but amusement rolled off him in waves.

"Goat sucking shit eh?" Riddick tipped his head back and laughed, and she realized. She'd been speaking aloud.

The jaguar fed her burnt sugar over steel. She scowled and tried to boot it off the branch. It sank its claws in and bared its fangs at her.

"Apologies River," Paul bowed his head slightly. "But I was testing a…theory…if you will."

He was doing more than that. Mal had told him she could speak to Riddick in her head. He'd been trying to manipulate her mind, the _hwoon dahn_. He'd done it before too, when she was so lost in the voices around her she couldn't find her own. He'd been trying to teach her to filter, and in the process had gotten her to say a great many things that were entirely out of character. And here he'd done it again.

Riddick's amusement was gone now, as abruptly as she'd remembered the trick, and the rage in his face and body was all for the man next to them. Around them she could feel the crew pulling themselves together, readying their defenses for the next set of arguments.

Captain Daddy was half an inch from throwing in the towel and heading back to the ship and to hell with this new plan. They'd managed so far, they could manage again. They'd always been fine out in the Black. The Black was the safest place he knew, on the move and not tied down to any one ball of dirt. She loved him for the fact that he just wanted to take her away from all this, that he was willing to take Riddick too. But she knew he was underestimating the danger and overestimating his ability to wiggle out of trouble.

Thomas solved the entire issue, simply by dint of bringing up a new one. Calmly, with a look on his face that she only remembered seeing a few times before, he came around the table to stand at her shoulder. She turned to watch him out of the corner of her eye, and Riddick stiffened minutely. He was planning something, something that was going to set off fireworks. She didn't know if the river was telling her this, or just her knowledge of the man. He loved to drop dynamite in the water and see what the blast brought up. He was also the one who never forgot to block his deepest thoughts. Not for the first time, she wondered why.

"I must say River," his lips were twitching and his one good eye danced. "When you bring us a knot to untangle, you certainly make sure it's a Gordian."

She opened her mouth, and he cut her off with a lifted palm. "However, this is not as…cut and dried as your most recent request. In dealing with that, we may rely mainly upon machines. In this case," he looked her up and down, and then at the man who still held her shoulders in an iron grip. "In this case, lives may be on the line. A number of them. There are a great many variables to be considered here, and not the least of which is Mr. Riddick here."

Something was teasing around the edges of her mind. A memory. And she wasn't sure if it was hers or his. Riddick prodded at her, curious, and she gave him a mental shrug in reply. There was blood there, and babbling, and something like an explosion. Voices rising in terror, shrapnel flying, and the panicked rush of adrenaline that told her she was going to die if she didn't get out. Right! Now! Where was she? Why were they under attack? Had they come to take her away again? It could not be allowed!

Teeth sank into her wrist, and a heavy paw pinned her to the rough bark of the tree. Riddick was growling again, and had shoved her behind him. The jaguar was focused on her, to the exclusion of all else, and the man was trying to break up the fragments memories that were floating to the surface of the stream. Around her the crew worried, and Inara had started forward in a rather ill-conceived attempt to comfort her.

She'd been whimpering, from what they'd seen. Whimpering and curled away from Thomas and it had everyone's back up. Even Sierra, whose thoughts ran towards. "Nice person, bad person" was forming a label for the man. Oh how little they knew. If they knew _why _she'd been whimpering. That was guilt and fear of herself instead of Thomas.

Riddick paused, and looked back at her, curiosity burning brighter. She braced herself, clinging to the back of his shirt. ::Damaged him, so long ago. Took his eye and don't know why. And he still forgives her. Still helped her. So set on paying his debt to all, and she is the proxy.::

It didn't make him any less angry, but it did explain a bit. She could feel him stuffing the memories of that time just a little further back into the jaguar's cave. If he couldn't reach them, he couldn't bring them up and she couldn't be hurt by them. She almost laughed at the logic. After all, giving them to him hadn't erased them from her own mind. She was quite capable of torturing herself, thank you very much.

The man laughed at the idea.

"Now, I am willing to make the attempt. As is Paul," Thomas gestured at his comrade, who was still watching them carefully. "However, I make one condition."

The crew erupted. Mal was protesting at the top of his lungs. Simon did his best to drown out the Captain. Kaylee radiated fear and worry and hope in equal portions, and looked from husband to Captain as she tried to see which would make his opinion known best. They agreed of course, which made it all the harder. Zoe had shut down her emotions, all except anger, and was cursing the Alliance, Blue Sun, Riddick, the Operatives, and anyone else she could think of to lay the blame. She added River in her head; and the girl winced and curled away, but couldn't help but be heartened by the fact that the woman kept her name between her teeth and didn't spill it out to open air. Words were stones after all.

Inara was trying to ask her a question, but the voices in the air and the voices in her head were too much in sync, and the combination was like a horrible sort of echo, ringing through her ears and head like a train's whistle down a long tunnel.

Jayne was behind her then, helping Riddick keep her on her feet, and she sagged between the two men who had such different reasons for wanting to keep her safe and clung to the unison of their minds. They were with her on this, and both were very good at focusing their energy when it was needed.

"_Bi zuie_!"

Blessed stillness, both in her ears and her mind. They were all too surprised to think. River decided to take back every bad thing she'd just been thinking about Thomas. Swaying, she clung to Riddick's arm and put the other hand to her head as she tried to get her bearings. Jayne had stepped away, hand going to his gun, and ready to shoot whoever needed shooting. She bit back a giggle, and shook her head when Riddick prodded her for the reason. Men and the need to hurt something. And they called themselves evolved.

Well…she buried her face in the fur of the jaguar…some did.

"Now," Thomas stepped between Mal and Simon and stopped just in front of Riddick. "As I said. There is one condition to this." She felt his intent a split second before he opened his mouth again, and astonishment nearly dropped her where she stood. "Mr. Riddick if you will, please remove the goggles?"

**Author's Note: **Hrmmm. _Now_ they roll out the conditions? Interesting no? Stay tuned. Some of the questions some of you have been asking will get answered soon. After all, you didn't think it'd be so easy to walk into a room and say "We want to get rid of the triggers," did you?

As always, I don't own them. Wish I did. Don't. So sorry lawyers.

Rachet: Yeah. Me too. They're a bit too much temptation as a plot device. And while they're great to torture these two with, it's probably wisest to get rid of them. Here's hoping

Shenandoah76209: I have this horrible habit of writing myself into a corner with Riddick and scrambling madly for something he can do or say to get him out of whatever logic puzzle he's stuck in. At that point I just write until something pops, which is what happened when he had his little epiphany. HE wants to do things. And until he's free of the triggers, he WON'T be able to do them all without looking over his shoulder. And since he lives for freedom (in a sense), that was the lever I needed to get him to go along with all of this. Ouy. Stubborn man. It's less me deciding what they'll say and me trying to convince them both. As for Kaylee..you're right. They need someone to anchor them all in the reality of life. It's hard. It's tough. There are also good people and innocents who wouldn't think of harming a fly. He used to have someone like that. That's why he's so uncomfortable around her. Mal on the other hand…ha. Good luck there. He's still being dense.

Guineverekay: Awww. I had been holding out to hear from you on it too. Well boo. Silly . And yeah. It won't be pretty. Not at all. But everything has to get worse before it gets better, or how will you appreciate what you've been through when you come out on the other side. And Kaylee? I think she might have chucked something at him if she hadn't had Sierra around. I'm hoping to get her and Riddick comfortable around each other, I just don't know how…

Translations:

_ge ge- _big brother

_hwoon dahn-_bastard

_Bi zuie-_ shut up!


	45. Chapter 45

Ch. 45

_Ladies and gentlemen good evening_

_You've seen that seeing is believing_

_Your ears and your eyes will be bleeding_

_Please check to see if you're still breathing_

_ "_Ladies and Gentlemen" Saliva

For a moment Riddick thought his ears had failed him. He tilted his head, almost brought a hand up to shake water from the ear canal, and managed to catch himself just in time. _What_ was that again? Was the man serious? Was that all he wanted? To see his eyes? Why the fuck…?

The man looked to the girl for answers, and got nothing in response. She wasn't there, not really. Oh she stood at his side and sat in the tree, but her entire being was focused on Thomas, on trying to figure out what he really wanted. Her mind raced, far faster than he could track, and he knew he'd pretty much lost her for the moment. The crew around him was still, and although anger and indignation still colored the air, their collective shock was doing a fair job of drowning everything else out. Even River's scent, which had been flickering between charcoal and steel and cool water. The only note that stood out in the mix now was the certainty, the sense of _waiting _that was coming off the man in front of him. And that wasn't so much a smell as a feeling.

"Why," he growled, and crossed his arms. River was clinging to an elbow, which marred the image a bit, but he figured he was getting his point across.

"Call it a hunch," Thomas shrugged. "Confirmation."

River went ramrod straight, opened her mouth, snapped it shut, and stared. Riddick hauled her a little further up the tree and let the jaguar pin her there as the shakes started; and the sour apples that rose around her were rare enough he couldn't think to remember what they signified.

::Surprise,:: she whispered. ::He knows…a thing. A thing from the black places.:: She twisted in his head, and the weapon peered into the stream. ::What does he know? How could he…:: she trailed off, completely at loss.

Almost, almost, he let the jaguar bring up the memories. But he knew it wouldn't do any good. If whatever was going on came out of one of those blackouts, he wouldn't be able to figure it out either. Seemed like there was only one thing to do. And really, in the long run, what could it hurt? At least compared to the alternative.

"Go get the lights," he rumbled to anyone who would listen. The rest were still coming out of shock, but Jayne cursed and headed for the bank of switches along the wall. Riddick spared a moment to wish for vocal commands linked into the functions of the room, but it was only a pipe dream. Nothing to do about it now. A few quick snaps later, all of which rang through his hearing like gunshots, and he was left in darkness.

Fear rose around him as the crew tried to brace themselves for what they thought was coming. He'd kept his eyes covered around them for a reason. They worked well for intimidation, and he needed every edge he had with these people, seeing as they were too bone headed to remember that there was a predator in their midst. Something about Thomas though, told him that his reaction would be unique. And it wasn't just the calm patience the man was giving off. River was right. He _knew_ something.

Slowly, more to keep anyone from making any sudden moves and getting them all shot than anything else, he pulled his arm free of River's grip and raised the goggles. They pulled and stuck to his skin, as always. And, as always, the world was somehow…more with them off. He could see the pulse in the man before him, a flicker of the skin at his throat. He could catch hints and glints of expressions, made by muscle movements too small for normal men to catch. Too small for him to see when fogged by the lenses of the goggles. He'd need to find a new set soon. These were getting scratched, beat up.

But the Thomas' pulse didn't speed up. Nor did Paul's. The two men stood, faces barely twitching. If he'd had to guess, he'd say they were _glad_ of what they saw. He couldn't figure it. River had waited weeks to comment on his eyes. Most were scared, or awed. Never had he met a man who saw the shine and looked like someone had just unveiled a prize. Even the mercs stank of unease and lemons when he let them see the silver. What the fuck was going on?

"Thank you Mr. Riddick. If you wish, you may want the goggles back. I believe we are going to need light for what comes next."

Rumbling, still confused and not getting any help from River, he pulled the lenses back down, settled them in place, and gave Jayne the word.

"That's it?" Mal's voice was just this side of stunned. "That's all you wanted?"

"Indeed Captain Reynolds." Thomas had turned away, pulled out a chair, and was reaching for River with one hand. Riddick growled, stepped between the Operative and his target, and helped the girl find her seat. Her brain was still racing, and it was taking everything he had not to try and follow her in the river. He'd promised after all. Charcoal was rising in the air, and he wondered if she'd even been aware of the lights going out, and then coming back on. Somehow, he thought not.

"Why the hell'd you need to see his eyes?" Jayne had come back over, and brought a glass and a pitcher from the sideboard along the wall. He set them down in front of River, bumped her shoulder with his hand, and kept moving. Zoe handed Sierra off to him without complaint. Riddick gave the woman a long look, but she was focused on the Operatives, jaw set and eyes flat. So she was still planning bloodshed when all this was through. That was ok. He may have promised to keep his mind out of River's memories. It didn't mean he was giving up on his plan of retribution.

"Perhaps if you all had a seat?"

The request was met with varying degrees of resistance, but after a moment they all saw the logic. This wasn't going to be quick. They'd probably miss the window. Riddick picked River up and pulled her into his lap as he took her place in the chair she'd been occupying while the rest found chairs and rearranged them. She was still gone, charcoal flooding his nose and bitter herbs mixed with wet earth. The animal nosed at her body where it knelt by the stream, but she was oblivious. Images were rising to the surface, flashing and falling away quicker than he could register what was in them. Grumbling, the man pinned her in his arms so she wouldn't fall in.

Witch-hazel was starting to creep into the mix of scents sitting in his lap, and her fingers were twitching. Carefully as he could, he started loosening the blades and shivs he had strapped to his thighs and tucking in his belt. She didn't so much as twitch, but he didn't want her grabbing one of them like she had last night. Much easier to just keep them away from her in the first place. He left them in a pile as far out as he could reach, and gave Jayne a quick look when the man reached out and slid the stack a little further away. At least the gun hand realized the danger. Good.

Across the table, Thomas had folded his hands together, flesh making an odd contrast to the jointed metal, and was watching them. Riddick lifted a lip in a snarl and snugged River a little closer. It earned him a couple of odd looks from the crew, but they must be getting used to it because nobody said anything. Even Sierra was quiet.

When River didn't show any signs of being aware of the watchers, Thomas sighed and stood up again. "As you know, when River felt she was losing her mind again, and thought the meds were making it worse, she asked Paul for help." He nodded over at the other man, who was still watching the crew through careful eyes. "Has she told you anything of that time?" His words were for the crew. His eyes were on Riddick.

"Nothing," Simon was scowling. "She never even told us where she went."

"That is not surprising, all things considered." Paul unclasped his hands and laid them flat on the table. "When I found her, she was…barely lucid. She'd managed to ditch the shuttle, found alternate means of transport, chained herself up in a cave in the foothills.

The hisses and gasps around the table told Riddick that her family had never even thought of that possibility. Where had they gone looking for her anyways? In his arms, the girl twitched, but otherwise was still. Except for her hands. They were starting to trace the blood vessels of his arms, coming down the scar on the underside of the one and working their way back up to his elbow. He frowned and reached for the animal. It had nothing to offer.

"When I found her, she'd been there three days. She knew who I was, but I don't know that she knew who _she_ was. She talked of peas and mattresses, a pen and its scratching…" The man shrugged. "I believe she thought she was back at the Academy, being interviewed by one of the Doctors. The words match with some of the footage that was taken of his sessions with her." He paused, frowned, and sighed. "She nearly killed me, with a stick nearby. She thought I was him you see."

"Wait," Simon sat up, brow furrowed. "Are you saying…that…?" Riddick could see him trying to fit pieces together, but the Doctor didn't have them all and he knew it.

"She killed him." Thomas' voice was flat. "She had asked for a directive, said she needed a goal, a thing to accomplish. Even before they know what her full potential was, they were conditioning her. The Doctor was…expendable."

"How old was she? How could she have-?" Inara was shaking her head and she'd gone pale. He couldn't pick her scent out from the general wash of horror and outrage, so he figured she must be feeling the same things. Riddick frowned and tried to catch at River's wandering hands. Her mind was starting to shift again, to come a little closer.

::You in there girl?::

No answer.

"Fifteen," Thomas replied. "And she shoved his pen through his throat."

More horror. A twitch of Mal's lips told Riddick that he was slightly proud of the girl. Hell, he himself was more than slightly proud. Deadly beauty, that's what she was. He pushed the thought her way, and she shook herself slightly as she raised her head by the stream.

"Good God," Simon had a hand over his mouth, and was staring at his sister like he'd never seen her before. He hadn't. Not really. Not since she'd gone to the Academy. What he'd brought out of there was his sister yes, but so changed as to be an entirely different creature. And it had taken years for her to find what that creature was. Riddick knew, of course. She was his match, the only person he'd ever met who knew what it was to be so broken in mind and soul that what crawled out of the ashes of destruction was an entirely new being.

But that was neither here nor there for now. River's awareness was trickling back to her body, and he let the animal drape itself over her and transmit all the awe and admiration he had for her while the man took up the guard.

"Got a point in there somewhere," he asked, look up into the mismatched eyes of the Operative before him.

A wry twitch of the lips, a draft of humor, and Thomas nodded. "There is always a point Mr. Riddick. I merely needed to impress upon her family the full…depth of her confusion when she came to us."

"Then get on with it."

River twitched in his arms, and he glanced down in time to see her swallow, open her mouth, and shut it on the words. He didn't know what she'd been planning on saying. Her brain was still half in the river, and none of the thoughts were in any sort of order. Looking up, he caught a raised eyebrow and a look he might have gotten off of one of his old training officers in the days before he learned how to sit back and keep his mouth shut so he could ride out whatever shit they were about to throw him into next. _There_ was the Operative, the soldier. If he hadn't been who he was, he might have actually been scared.

Around the table the crew shifted, unease and apprehension oozing from them. Some of them had caught the look, and were calculating shortest distance out of what they must have assumed was the coming explosion. More proof that they didn't really know who the fuck they were dealing with. He was perfectly capable of keeping his temper when he needed too. And right now he needed to. Fucking annoying piece of shit that he was, they still needed this man.

A titter in his head announced River's return to the world around her, and he spared her a growl before returning to the matter at hand.

Thomas was still watching them with that look on his face, and River shifted around so she could meet the man's eyes. Riddick let her, wondering what it was she had in mind. It was all sealed up on her side of the bond. Not with walls of ice or sharpened metal, just…sealed.

"Should not tell the secrets of others," River muttered as she glared up at the man through her lashes. "They do not need to know the in-between. Need only to know that the girl came here. The girl was lunatic. The girl-"

"Was having blackouts and babbling," Thomas replied. "Speaking on things she could never have known."

"Such as?" Mal had crossed his arms, and was looking more angry and uncomfortable by the second. He couldn't seem to decide who to glare at, the Operatives or River. Beside him, Inara was twisting her hands together and anguish and guilt poured off of her in waves. He had to give her credit though; she seemed to be facing up to the mess her family had made of things with the girl. The rest just looked stunned.

::Realization. Reasoning discovered.:: River's voice was soft in his mind as she curled up in the shelter of the animal. ::Guilt. Anger, at her and themselves. Dread, of what she wants to do.:: There was something wrong with the flavor of her mind though, and she still had whatever-it-was she'd gotten out of the river sealed up. ::No. Found nothing. That is the problem.::

"The blackouts gave some interesting insights into how River's mind…picks things up."

River stiffened, mind and body motionless. Shock and horror rippled through her, manifesting as sour apples and swampy water in her scent. The man came to sit next to her among the tree roots, and between him and the animal they tried to anchor her in. It seemed to work.

Thomas was still talking, ignoring the exclamations of surprise from her crew and the rumble building in Riddick's chest. "Some were…violent. Others downright…placid. But," and now he crouched so he could look up and meet River's eyes instead of looking down, "in each one she said something, did something. Things she couldn't have known. Things that had no relation to her current surroundings."

Dread was building in his mind. He had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going. Not exactly where, no, but a pretty good idea. River was turning in on herself and he knew she felt it too. How was it possible? How could it be? What was her range anyways?

"River, do you remember? When you started borrowing from the library?  
The crew, her family, were shifting in their seats. They watched the by play, faces picture of fascination and scents an unreadable mix. Riddick tore his focus from them and turned his attention back to the girl. She remembered all right.

Thomas saw it in her face too. He nodded, and reached up with his metal hand to touch her knee. She twitched, but didn't try and pull away. Riddick glared.

Thomas ignored him. "There was a time, maybe a few months after…well. After. Another blackout. Don't," he lifted the hand before River's eyes could glass. Riddick let the animal sit on her before she could slip back into the river. "Don't try and remember. It's not so needful for you. What is needful is what you said." The man's hand was back on her knee. "You'd been reading about South American myths, so we thought it was just an extension of that."

"Jaguar," the girl whispered, voice cracking. "Descends to Xibalba. Fights the demons and rises with the sun."

Of course. She could just pull it from the man's mind. Riddick stared down at her, demanding she look up at him and tell him he hadn't just heard what he thought he heard. The animal was snarling, the man looking for his shivs, and both wanted to gut the man before he could put her through any more of this. Had this been their idea of helping her? Playing and teasing and leading her mind in circles? What sort of fucked up help was that?

::No,:: The girl eeled up next to the man and wrapped her arms around his waist. ::Learned how from her. Talk her mind in circles and lead her to the truth. Direct approach often…inadvisable. Too many things set her off then. Had to feel their way around danger zones.::

She was lacing her fingers with his, and he knew it was as much to keep him from going for the pile of weapons he'd left in the middle of the table as it was for the comfort of touch. He let her. Plenty of time to ghost the guy later.

She growled at him in her head.

Around the table, the crew was looking at each other, faces confused and shocked. The jaguar part he knew they got. The rest though, that was a puzzle even to him. She'd said something like that last night too, but he'd been too focused on the rest of what was happening to pay much attention.

"Jaguar," Inara murmured, tilting her head to the side. "Riddick…"

He glared at her, but the effect was lost with the goggles.

"Exactly." Paul, silent up till now, sat forward and folded his hands together. Riddick transferred his glare to the man instead. "Although you deviated a bit, from the words of the myth. If I recall correctly, it went something like 'Where is the warrior of the night? Carries the stars in his eyes as he battles in Xibalba. Will he rise or stay forever in darkness? What will he bring to the light of day? Who can match the pain he has known and will know?'"

River froze. Riddick felt his mind grind to a halt. Around the table, the crew exchanged puzzled looks and muttered comments. But he didn't have time for them right now. The words were ringing in his head like a bell, echoing at him from River, and sending ripples through the water of the stream.

How? How the fuck...?

The animal searched for the girl. The man for the weapon. He could feel her calling to him from a long way off. They were hunting for him too. It didn't make sense. It just didn't. How the hell could she have…? _What_ had she done? Where had it come from?

Mal's voice was a mix of anger and confusion, and it cut through the fog in his mind like a knife. "What does any of that have ta do with Riddick though? She's called him jaguar a time or two, sure. Don't see how it's relevant."

Thomas opened his mouth to reply, and his voice mingled oddly with River's as she spoke along with the man. "Down down into the deeps. Heat and bad air. More creatures than men now. Hellhounds to befriend if you have the right eyes." She was still motionless in his arms, and it wasn't until she grunted in mild pain that he realized he was crushing her fingers. She wouldn't let him go when he tried to loosen his grip. Her knuckles were turning white, and her fingernails were digging into his skin again.

Thomas was watching them, waiting for her to catch up before he started speaking again. "Xibalba must give up its prey. Must let loose the girl he has come for. Out out out to the light of day. Night will kill you, day will burn. Keep to the shadows and let the stars shine their guidance."

She mewled and curled in on herself, small body wrapping around the arms he held her with and continued on her own. "She doesn't know what she's saying. She never knows what she's saying…"

Riddick hauled her closer and turned her so she was sitting sideways across his legs. The others just stared. Paul and Thomas were looking at each other, and he knew they were exchanging information in the way partners did, people who'd known each other long enough that words were sometimes just a formality. He used to do it with his teams. He'd seen Mal do it with Jayne and Zoe and Inara.

Charcoal and apples and rain brought him back to the matter at hand. River sat, eyes staring and hands still clenched around his, and try as he might he couldn't find her in his mind. She was there, he knew it, but the fog was too thick. He didn't even know where _he_ was. All he knew was that the bond still held; and something was running through them that defied all logic. It made no sense for her to be talking about Crematoria. How could she have, so long-Something slid into place and a little of the fog lifted.

"Thomas," he growled, looking over at the man who'd stood while he rearranged the girl. "How long ago was this?"

The man frowned, looked over at Paul, and shrugged. "Towards the end of her time here. She was having very few blackouts then. This was remarkable in that it was one of the last. Approximately three years ago."

The animal shoved the knowledge in the girl's direction for her to confirm, but the man thought he had it right. It didn't quite jive, but it was close enough. "Fuck," he breathed, and pried his hands loose from River so he could drag them over his face. "Fuck," he said again, for lack of anything better.

"What," Mal snapped. "What the gorram hell is so important about the timing of it?" Anger and dread and horror were oozing from the man. Whatever he'd expected from his morning, this was not it. Next to him Inara was worrying at her lip, and just beyond that Simon's eyes had gone round. Riddick knew the man must be doing his own calculations. He'd only given a general timeframe for his travels after all. And that might even account for some of the discrepancy. Not much reason to track the days in space after all, and he'd been more concerned with finding a place for Kyra than keeping a tally of how long he'd been travelling.

"It fits," River said, straightening to look him in the face. "Sort of. Do not know if it was premonition or picking things up after the fact…to vague. Too much time lost and not enough kept track of."

"But it fits," he grumbled, and wrapped his arms around her waist again. "Fuck it all to hell, it fits."

"What fits," Mal stood up, hands on hips and face like thunder. Inara was pulling him down, or trying too. She didn't understand either; he could see it in her face. But he could smell her fear, and knew she was dreading another explosion of temper. A violent outburst from either him or River. He would have laughed if he hadn't been so stunned. So shocked. The words were still ripping their way through his consciousness, all the way through the animal and to the fire at his center.

Years ago, she'd heard him. Somehow. Someway. Between the weeks of travel between planets, the day and a half on that miserable fucking planet, and the weeks back, she had lost herself in the river of her mind and picked something up. So far away. Could she do it now? Now that she was sane and anchored into him? Could he find out if Vaako had kept his word and gone to the Underverse? Could he find out if Imam's woman and child were ok?

::Doubt it,:: River huddled into the side of the man and hooked a foot over the neck of the animal, forcing it to stay put and not pace as it wished. She was shaken. So shaken. She had the memory now, second hand from Thomas as he'd given it to her. Riddick wasn't about to ask her to give it over to him.

"Three years ago," he said aloud, to try and tear his mind away from the implications. "Give or take. That's when I was in the middle of the mess with the Necros. When I went to Crematoria to try and get Jack out."

Mal sat down with a surprised woosh of air as he lost his breath. Shock filled the air, and he could see them picking up on the implications. Even Jayne was looking at the girl with a sort of dawning awe mixed with horror. Riddick frowned, and prodded River in the man's direction.

She stiffened, shifted slightly, and then relaxed against him. ::Thinking that there's nowhere to hide. Glad the Alliance never got her back.:: Bare feet were worming their way under the animal, and it growled at her, but didn't move to leave. ::Understands things fine, the trained ape man. So long as he puts it in terms of fighting, surviving. And if they had retaken the girl, if Paul had succeeded in his original mission to bring her back…:: Lemons, so long out of her scent, rammed their way up his nose. ::Others understand too. Would have been nowhere to hide. At her most lunatic, she is a wide range receiver. If Blue Sun had discovered that…:: She shuddered and he felt gooseflesh crawling under her hands. ::Millions of miles Riddick, and she heard you before she knew you existed. Heard the pain and the conflict and the loneliness. Heard a heart akin to hers.::

The animal rumbled, and the man stilled his pacing. There it was. Possibilities aside, the animal knew. So many years on the run. So many years of burying everything but the need to survive. All over a girl. A girl not yet a woman. And for a girl, a woman actually, he'd done it all over. And over. And he'd do it again for the one sitting in his lap right now.

What else did he need to know? Time enough later to pick this apart. All that mattered at the moment was that she hadn't just latched onto him because he was there. He didn't know if it was the premonitions she had or by pure chance but somehow she'd found him again, way out in space. What were the odds anyways?

Somewhere out in the Black, he knew Aereon was laughing her Elemental ass off.

Movement in the corner of his eye made him turn. Thomas had his hands behind his back and was studying them both, but there was something else in his eyes now. Sympathy? Understanding? Riddick growled, just on principle, but the animal was too caught up in the girl to worry much about what the man had in mind. If it was anything bad, she'd warn him. The Operative ignored the warning, and pivoted to look down the table instead. The surge of emotions had faded some, and the crew were muttering to themselves and each other as they tried to work out what they'd just discovered.

Riddick shook his head and threaded the fingers of one hand up through the mass of braids at the base of River's neck. Idiots. The implications didn't matter for now. It was the fact that she'd heard him, had labeled him jaguar even then. And that Thomas and Paul remembered it.

_That_ was the key point here. That was the reason they'd agreed so easily to the request for help with the trigger. Fuckers thought they'd put a piece of their puzzle together, trying to map out what it was River had babbled and prophesied while she lost her mind. Just as bad as the ones who'd stuck her in a lab.

::No.:: Her denial dropped into his head like a bomb, and she yanked the river up over the man's head. Steel and cool water surrounded him, and he felt the building rage get washed away. ::No. Never asked her. Never mentioned it if they could help it. Let her have her fits, so long as she wasn't violent about it. No recordings. No notes. Rote memory holds all, and when they die the words die with them. :: She twisted in his arms and took his face in her hands. Dark eyes burned, and he could tell she'd had just about enough of his obsession with killing these two. It didn't mean he wasn't going to get his pound of flesh though.

"Belief," she snapped. "They have it in spades. Catch them while they're young, condition the mind and the body will follow. Believe in A Better World. But A Better World is open to interpretation and so is the methodology. This is the method they see best. Deny the Alliance, deny Blue Sun the weapons and tool and resources and eventually they must collapse." The room had gone still, quiet except Zoe's soft cursing and Mal's harsh breathing. "This is why they help the girl. Belief. She is a tool. Will always be a tool. A weapon. But to what end? Her own? Or Blue Sun's? Better she roams free than the invisible leash, the pin on the grenade that can be pulled from a million miles away." She shook his head. "She-"

"Enough River," Paul had stood and come around the table to lay a careful hand on her shoulder. "Minds cannot be changed by force. If the time comes when he still believes we should die, then he can fight us for it then. We are running out of time. The window will close soon and Captain Reynolds still has a decision to make."

Riddick held back the snarl by the barest of margins. Bad enough the man didn't seem to care his death sentence had been given. Worse that he was touching her like he had the right. _Worst_ that he was talking to her like he knew what was going through her head."

::Idiot.:: Her voice was harsh, and she pulled one foot out from under the animal to drive her heel into its side. ::Jealous moron.:: The animal snapped and caught her leg in its teeth. She ignored it. ::_You_ are the match. _You_ are the _hwoon dahn_ who set up shop in her head and in her heart. Quit thinking with your dick and pull your head out of your _pi gu_. There are more important things to worry about.::

"River," Mal was rubbing his hands over his face, and he looked like death warmed over. "You sure on this 'Tross?"

River let go of Riddick's face and turned back to face her Captain and father. The Furyan let his hands drop back down to her waist, keeping her on his lap and her scent in his nose. She twitched in slight acknowledgement of the possessiveness, but her attention was on Mal. "Yes. Arguments set forth. Debated. Reasonings made, questions asked, witnesses called. Case has been rested. Verdict in. If it can be done, it must be done. Triggers are unacceptable. Final fetters. Final chains. Better to die in the attempt than to not be free." Steel swam through the air and she leaned forward against the hands that held her in place. "What have you done Captain Daddy, to be _free_?"

A chorus of curses met the challenge and anger filled the air. It was a gauntlet that could not be ignored, and had only one answer.

Mal drew himself up, face hard and eyes burning. She'd outmaneuvered him and he knew it. "Right then. Zoe," he turned to his First Mate, who'd come to her feet at some point and looked like she wanted to shoot someone. Preferably several someones. "You and Jayne take Inara and the girls and go back to the ship. Start gettin' the repairs goin'. Get some ah River and Riddick's things gathered. Next window we'll be out to get them and River can let us inta all those accounts of hers so we don't break the ruttin' bank while we're here. Simon," he swung around to the Doctor. "You're here with me for the time bein'. Ah." he held up a hand to cut River's protest off. "You ain't doi'n this alone. Anyways, you know your brother ain't gonna go back to the ship unless you hog tie him."

A faint snort from Simon confirmed that, and Kaylee giggled into her hand. Riddick found himself impressed. All evidence to the contrary, at least the man could take a tactical disadvantage and find a way to work it around. Not a strategist, but then again, neither was he. The long term plans always got fucked up one way or another anyhow.

"Well then," Paul drew himself up and a faint smile twitched at the corner of his lips. "Let's not delay. We only have thirty minutes before the window closes. "

Mal snorted and left off the whispered argument he was having with Inara. "Don't think you're stayin' on the ship if you miss it comin' back."

The Operative shrugged slightly and headed for the door at the far end of the room. "Indeed. I shall endeavor to remember that Captain. This way please."

::Well,:: Riddick muttered, rubbing his fingers over the hips of the girl he was holding. :: We're in it now.::

She leaned up against him and tucked her head under his chin as she watched her family file out of the room. ::Wish she believed prayer worked.::

**Author's Note:** Well. Regular Oracle of Delphi isn't she? And no, the math doesn't quite work out. I suck at it anyways and I set the timeline way back in the first chapter and I don't have the brainpower to fix it. So I'm going to leave things fuzzy as to precog vs. wide range receiver. Maybe both. Either way, the jaguar thing has been percolating in the back of my brain for months now. When I first started this story, I picked a jaguar to be his animal mainly because I like big cats and there're already a couple stories out there with the tiger comparison. I figured I'd go for an animal not usually used, and I'm fascinated by black jaguars. Then I did a little research and realized the potential. I can't remember which civilization it was, but the name roughly translates (paraphrased) into "kills in one leap". A fair number of ancient South American tribes deified jaguars. They don't mind water, and will climb trees to ambush prey. Their coat was supposed to be like stars, and they were believed to be able to walk in separate worlds (night and day, the lands of the living and the underworld). The actualXibalba myth says the jaguar is the sun that descends to the underworld to fight demons so it can rise again the next day. His coat is supposed to be made of stars in the night sky. I've bastardized this some, of course.

None of this was stuff I knew when I decided to go with a jaguar for this story. Or the stars analogy for his eyes. Funny how all that worked out eh? I decided to go with the myth and the precog for River about the same time she drug him underwater and let him see what it felt like to be ambushed. I figured what the hey; it pretty much fits Riddick to a T anyways, right?

So do Paul and Thomas interpret her prophesies? Are there more? I don't know. Are they trying to piece things together like Riddick thinks? Or are they still conditioned by the Alliance to fight for a better world? Maybe a bit of both. One thing to remember, they spent months and months with her as a raving lunatic. They're used to her allegories and crazy talk, so they're not going to need much translation when she spouts off.

Thanks to everyone who comments and follow and favs and READS. Love you all!

As always, they aren't mine. Well, Thomas little bit. But everything else belongs to Joss and the Wheat brothers and Vin and Tuohy and people not me. Got it? Good.

Shenandoah76209: Lol. I understand. But you're fairly coherent. I nearly merged that chapter with this one, but the goggles line lost its punch that way. Glad you liked it. And yeah, Riddick's logic is not people logic. Is it bad that I can weasel him into doing things for me? Hope you liked this one!

Guineverkay: LOL. Yeah. Drowned him in crazy; that pretty much sums it up. I kind of wish they'd stop screwing each other though. Every time I try and have a serious conversation with them, they end up naked. Naked and horny. Worse than teenagers! As for Kaylee, she's going to get the short end of the stick here unfortunately. Until I can get them back on the ship and the ship dead in the water or something, I can't do much with her. She's a sweetheart and I love her to death, but she's not one who likes conflict, and that's pretty much all I have left.

: Whoo! So glad you found me! Glad you like! Hope to hear from you again!

Rachet: Lol. Jayne's being a PITA. He keeps trying to be a huge softie and all insightful and stuff. I know he is, but he's gotta keep his street cred somehow. It's a fine line to walk. Glad you liked how he turned out!

Translations:

_hwoon dahn_-Bastard

_pi gu- _Ass

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Lilac: mischief

Swamp water: horror


	46. Chapter 46

Ch. 46

_You'll never know what hit you_

_Won't see me closing in_

_I'm gonna make you suffer_

_This Hell you put me in_

_I'm underneath your skin_

_The devil within_

_You'll never know what hit you _

"The Devil Within" Digital Daggers

His head was pounding. That was the first thing he was aware of. The second thing was the smell. Sterile. Antiseptic. Cotton and metal and stone. The air temperature was neither here nor there, and he could hear people moving nearby. In his head he found the fire, a small flame that burned in a dark place. A curved depression in the ground around it held water, and the moat was fed by a small trickle of a stream. He followed it, across uneven ground and through the pitch black made bright as day by his eyes and out into an open space.

A tree, huge and spreading at the roots and branches. Another stream, this one larger, feeding the trickle by his feet. On the ground between the two was an odd lump, dark and soft, light and smooth. On closer inspection, he realized it was an animal, a huge spotted jungle cat of dark on dark. It was wrapped around, or was wrapped with, a girl. Pale skin, dark hair. Shoulders and arms a mess of bruises and bite marks. He was almost angry, until the animal raised its head and growled and he remembered. The teeth marks had come from _him._ Marks of passion. Marks of possession.

Water burbled and another creature rose from the stream. Calm and precise, every moment just so. The girl, but not the girl. A weapon fashioned into a girl. Bladed limbs, steel in her eyes and hair like razor whips. She paced towards him, and a ghost image followed. A woman, hair braided with feathers and a sword at her hip. Hard eyes and a full mouth. Her eyes flashed blue, and then it was just the weapon-girl in front of him. She ran careful hands up his arms, and the edges of her fingers grazed his skin ever so slightly. He watched her, and saw the bruises and bite marks that covered him; chest, arms, and if he twisted, shoulders. Just about the right size for the girl to have made. Marks of possession. Marks of passion.

Cool lips twitched into a smile, and she placed on palm on his chest as she pulled his head down to lay her lips on his forehead.

::The Riddick,:: she whispered against his skin. ::The match.::

He lurched, nearly fell off the bed, and caught himself just in time. The hearts and breathing of those around him spiked, and he couldn't sort out the smells. Not that he cared. He was only looking for one person. Apples and rain. Steel and cool water and charcoal and witch-hazel. Where the fuck was she?

He heard her first. Small breaths, a hitch in each. Then movement, fabric over fabric. Someone was there, cotton cloth worn and softened with time and multiple washings. It still scratched over his skin as the owner of leather, gun oil, rage, and faint incense slipped an arm under his and helped him stand. The room was blessedly dark, and he tried to get his eyes to focus on Mal's face; but he was having trouble counting how many of him there were. Besides, he still needed to find the girl.

Metal over metal, sliding and catching slightly, then sliding again. A curtain was pulled back and Simon was there, looking like murder and blocking his way to the bed behind him. He could see dark hair, a slim form lying far too quietly, and not much else. But he knew where she was now, and he tried to take another lurching step. His kneecap announced the fact that someone's attempt to shatter it had nearly succeeded and he almost lost his balance again. There was a burning across his chest, but he didn't have time for that now. He had to figure out what had happened. Why the last thing he remembered was a fucking octopus. Why the girl was so quiet, so wrong in his mind.

"Move," he snarled at the Doc as he got in arm's reach. He'd either move the man himself or use him as the next point of contact in his quest to make it to the bed mostly under his own power. Either way, the man was going to get the fuck out of the way or he'd know why.

"Are you happy now," Simon snapped as he stepped aside and then ducked in under the arm opposite Mal. "Is this what you wanted?"

His only answer was a low growl, and then Riddick didn't have time for him anyways. He braced himself on the edge of the bed, staring down at the girl. She was pale, even to his eyes, and he could see her pulse fluttering under the skin of her neck. Steady, but slow. A bruise the size of his fist covered half her face, swelling it up and turning it black. One arm was in a sling, and the hand attached was wrapped up in a brace. Stitches tracked from her collarbone down under the thin cotton gown she'd been wrapped in and he was afraid to look and see how far the gash went.

What the fuck had gone wrong?  
"River," he croaked, managing to get a hip up on the bed and still keep his balance. Impotent fury raged through him, augmented by the rage and fear he could smell coming off the men behind him. ::River,:: he tried again. He was better coordinated in his mind, and knelt by the animal and the girl to shake her shoulder. She stirred a little, moaned slightly, and the sound sent all the fine hairs on his body standing to attention. She sounded…frail. Like a child.

Her hair was in her face, and he reached up to shift it out of the way. Another bruise, disappearing into the hairline. It made him sick in a way he'd never thought he'd be. "Fuck girl," he snarled. "Answer me already."

The two behind and next to him stiffened in outrage. Hearts and breathe sped up. But he was focused on the chest of the girl below him, rising and falling slowly; but just a little stronger each time. Her eyelids fluttered, and he traced a thumb down her cheekbone, about the only undamaged spot on her face left to him.

::Don't do this to me girl,:: he snarled at her as he worked his way in between the animal and the girl. ::Don't make me beg.::

"Words," she whispered, and then coughed. He growled at her for that, but was to glad to see she had enough fire in her to prod at him.

"Fuck you," he grumbled, back, and slipped his hands around the back of her head, gently as he could. Simon was coming around the other side of the bed, stethoscope already in his ears. He could have told the man not to bother. Her heart was strong enough, just…quiet. Her breathing was clear too. Not like his. His was rough, running over rails as the animal caught up with the man and the realization hit it that she looked like a low flying comet had taken a swipe at her. Or something. The pain in his ribs told him one was cracked, but that wasn't what was causing the pain in his chest. What the fuck had happened? All he remembered was a red rage and the need to cause damage. Lots of it.

He held her still long enough for Simon to do his Doctor thing, and never had he wished for a Nano-Med station more than at that moment. They hurt like a bitch going in, and his skin crawled every time he got near one, but he figured it would be worth it to get the girl looking less like a piece of over tenderized meat and more like herself.

Once Simon had stepped away, he pulled a hand from under her head and took up the fingers that had crawled their way up his leg. "What the hell happened," he asked, for anyone who would answer.

"You went nuts," Mal said. His voice was quiet, full of the sort of anger that meant he'd gone beyond his usual hysterical knee jerk reactions and down into the old soldier part of himself. He didn't know if that insight came from River or from himself. Frankly, he didn't care anymore _how _he figured these things out. He just did. Riddick knew that the Captain was dead serious though, and in the state he was in he wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight if Mal pulled that gun of his and decided to put a round though his skull.

"While descriptive, Captain Reynolds, I do not know that that is an accurate word to use," Myrrh, resignation, and something he couldn't quite place. Paul.

He nearly lost his balance again as he tried to twist around to look at the man, and River clutched at his hand as he swayed, then caught himself. Thomas was there too, carrying a tray full of coffee cups and wearing a slight frown on his face. It was disturbing, how he couldn't pick one from the other by scent. The taller man moved around the other Operative and put the little cardboard carrier down on the table by the door. For his part, Paul set down the sheathed sword he'd been holding, laying it across the arms of a nearby chair, and came over to the bed.

Riddick's animal growled, and the man started looking for sweet spots to sink a blade in. The other man ignored him, choosing to focus on River instead. "I believe we've had words about this before young lady," he said, his voice disarmingly gentle. "On the topic of full disclosure."

Mal was reaching for his gun. Simon's glare had gone from angry to flat out murderous. If Riddick hadn't had one hand tangled in River's hair and the other wrapped around her fingers he would have fucking punched the man and the hell with consequences. The girl herself cringed and shot up the tree so fast the animal almost couldn't tell where she'd gone.

There was silence for a few moments, as River stared up at the man and thought and tried to figure it out, and Riddick just clung to balance and attempted to do some of his own figuring. They arrived at the conclusion at about the same time.

"Fuck," he grumbled.

"Oh no," she whispered, and stared up at him through huge eyes

He was starting to think he had a talent for this, making bad decisions at just the wrong time for them to come up and bite him in the ass. Why the _fuck_ hadn't it occurred to him in the first place? The animal was growling at the man, and the man was snarling right back. They'd both been at fault, but it had been the man, the one who was supposed to be the brains and the planner and how the hell had he not thought of the fact that if he had all her memories, even locked away in the animal…he had her triggers too.

Paul was looking from one to the other, curiosity paramount. Thomas was doing the same, but the expression on his face was more calculating. Riddick wondered just how much the man had figured out from the brief explanation of the bond that they'd given the pair before they started working on the triggers. He remembered that much at least, telling them how they'd bonded with blood and sex and found on waking that they could speak to each other in their minds. That they could track each other's moods and use the other's talents to their advantage. Not much more than that. Nothing about the tree or the animal or the stream.

Which had been the bigger mistake? Not telling them all of it? Or getting the memories from River?

::Not telling,:: River's voice was hard as steel, and the weapon was looking at him out of that battered face. ::Told you before. Do not make her tell you again. So long as you are at the end of it, it is worth it. Even the puking and seizing and crying. Better that you know. Better than you see her entire.:: She'd managed to use her grip on his hand to pull herself up slightly, and the others could have just as well not existed for all the awareness she seemed to have of them.

He rumbled, but he was learning to pick his battles with this girl. And they'd already beaten this one to death anyways. The others were shifting around them, waiting for the answer, and he knew that any second now her Captain Daddy or her brother were going to open their big mouths and make him reach out and try to strangle one of them. Try being the operative word there. He was in no danger of life or limb and the animal knew it. No adrenaline meant he was far more likely to fall flat on his face than he was to actually do any damage. Better to save his energy for holding onto River and letting the animal and the man wrap the girl and the weapon up between them.

"It's the memories," he said finally, when it didn't look like she was going to speak. "Dunno how it works. She's got alla' mine." A deep breath. "And I've got alla' hers."

The two Operatives, for the first time since he'd met them, stared. Shock ripped through the air and up his nose, and he could feel River tracking their thoughts as they raced through the possibilities and implications. He didn't need to know what they were. He could take a fair guess, based on what he knew of the men. He didn't give them a chance to pull themselves together. Carefully as he could he pulled his hand from River's hair and turned to look them in the eyes. "Now. What the fuck happened?"

~HHYFN~

Fucked Up Beyond All Reason. It was an accurate description. He would have gone with Situation Normal: All Fucked Up, but there was nothing _normal_ about having sensors glued to your head and being stuck watching a cartoon octopus pop out of a cartoon woman's cleavage while it tried to sell you something called an Oaty Bar. There was nothing _normal_ about knowing that when the girl had been in this room not ten hours before, and him in another just down the hall; that the fucking octopus had sent them both hunting for the nearest warm body to pummel into submission. He'd followed her down the chute of insanity and fog and 'Target Acquired" by only a millisecond, having been instructed not to fight it. They needed a baseline, a known quantity that they could measure any progress against.

River had reeked of lemons and cool water for the entirety of the planning stage. She'd lost the cool water after the sensors were attached and he'd had to physically help her into the room she'd been assigned. He hadn't been much better. The animal had been snarling and growling and snapping that anything and anyone that came in reach, even the girl.

To say he was Not Happy didn't even come close to describing his mood. Murderous and Don't Fuck With Me were better labels, and even those were falling short in a few key areas. It had been a good thing the two Operatives had holed up in the observation room. He couldn't have guaranteed how many fingers, limbs, or vital organs they'd find themselves missing if he caught sight of them.

For all the fear and rage they'd felt going into that first test though, things had gone pretty much according to plan. They'd used the trigger that had first gotten River to flag her presence to the Alliance and Blue Sun, all those years ago. It had been explained to that since they knew how she reacted to it; it should give a good basis of comparison. There was something in that, in Paul's scent, that set off alarm bells in Riddick's mind. Something about how they'd acted when they talked on knowing how she'd react to the trigger. Were there triggers that they didn't know the purpose of? Ones that hadn't worked?

He hadn't gotten a chance to bring it up, and River's mind had been enough of a roil that while she shared his worry, she couldn't spare much attention for it. Simon and Mal had been present, both seething and sending her further and further up the tree. He'd been about to say fuck it and drag her into the cave and out of the room when Mal had to go open that mouth of his.

"How the hell is this even possible," the Captain had snapped. "Thought you weren't the Parliament's man no more."

River's head had come up at that, and even the animal had turned around. He hadn't thought about that. The girl had been sure Paul and Thomas could help, and he hadn't questioned how she knew. Now he was curious. Not enough to quit feeling like he wanted to rip the fucking sensors off his forehead, or to stop wishing he hadn't left all his blades back in their room. But enough to wonder.

Finally Paul had sighed, exhaling mild humor and regret. "I stole the logs. After the broadwave."

"Wait," Simon's mouth had gaped. "You…the logs…for what exactly?"

"The behavioral modification logs, to be specific. I still had access. For quite a while actually. They'd opened them for me when I began my hunt." The man had shrugged and his round face had twisted a little. "I was unsure at the time, exactly why I did it. One small step maybe…On the road to redemption…"

"All this time," Simon sat down and stared at his sister. "River, did you know?"

The girl had jerked in place, having lost herself in the tree again, and the animal curled around her snarled. "Not at first," she whispered. "Not till she came to Mik-lat. And then?" She'd shaken her head and burrowed into Riddick's side. "Not strong enough to break through. Not enough of the girl in one piece to gather herself and fight. No point then. Could only hope," she'd stopped to take a deep breath, dug a little deeper into the side of the animal, and went on. "Could only hope it wouldn't happen again. That she could block her ears and eyes and stay away from vid screens."

And that right there. That had settled him down some. Down from Murderous to Fucking Pissed. She had a chance now. With the anchor of the bond, with him helping, maybe she had a chance to not be afraid. To not live in fear that every stray sound she caught; every fucking commercial or who knew what would set something off in her that would drive the weapon and the girl down into the depths and bring forward a creature that was far more dangerous than either.

It was always the mindless you needed to worry about. The robots. The fucking faithful Necros so far gone in their religion they'd decimate everything in their path if the right person told them to.

The problem was that he was just as fucked as she was now. No need to worry about _her_ being triggered and setting him off. No. Now it went both ways.

Fucking hell.

And all he could remember was that octopus. Standing in the middle of the empty room and thinking how stupid it was to sit there and watch and listen while River was shut up in a room where she had absolutely zero chance of accidently getting triggered. They'd done it as a failsafe. And extra point of comparison. And he'd agreed because he'd thought nothing would happen. That there was nothing to worry about.

Fucking octopus. Fog and creepy children's voices. And then …nothing. Brief flashes of wires sticking out of a wall, people running and yelling and falling beneath his hands. But none of them dangerous. None of them a real threat. A glimpse of River's glassed over eyes. He'd lost her presence in his mind at some point, and he didn't even have residual image transmitted from the girl to tell him what had happened.

~HHYFN~

His chest was burning, a long line across the pectoral and down along the ribs. He realized he'd been stitched up at some point. River's hands were white knuckled around his, and he knew she'd been following his train of thought as he tried to backtrack his way through the last few days and the monumental FUBAR that had occurred. They were fucked, no two ways around it.

"No," she growled. "Can't be. Won't allow it." She yanked the arm with the scar on it towards her and turned it up so he could see. The weapon was still glaring at him behind those eyes. "Have to. Have to find a way. Can't start and not finish."

Simon dropped onto the other bed and drug his hands across his face. "I know that voice," he muttered as Riddick glared down at the girl. "I _hate_ that voice."

Mal was just shaking his head, face grim and arms crossed. Apparently he knew that voice too. If he hadn't been convinced before that River was dead set on getting rid of the triggers, this clinched it. Riddick was coming to know the voice as well. He had his own version of Don't Fuck With Me if You Know What's Good For You. Deeper, more of a growl than a blade sliding into the gut. But it was unmistakable.

She'd managed to talk him around to this insanity in the first place. He'd promised to try, thinking in the back of his mind that he'd have to be the anchor, the one reaching out and pulling her back from the brink. Part of him had been ok with that. Had even been glad that he was only painting a target on his chest by proxy, instead of having the fucking missile aimed directly at him with a DNA sig to boot.

It was a measure of how unsettled and panicked man and animal were that he shot a look over at the Operatives. They were watching the proceedings with blank faces, and he knew that whatever else may happen, if River got him to try this shit again, they'd go right along with it. Like she was their personal fucking lighthouse, or saint. Or who knew what.

In his head she booted the animal in the side and yanked the man's had down to look him in the eye. ::We have the foundation,:: she said, voice all out of keeping with the steel coating her body. ::So long as we have the bond.:: She traced a finger down the scar and he felt her touch like electricity through his skin. ::Have the bond and the foundation. Will find our way back to each other, no matter what. No power in the 'Verse after all.::

He moved his hand out of hers and took the arm that had her scar. It had healed well, all things considered, but it wasn't going to be fading anytime soon and he liked that just fine. She was right of course. He'd spent enough time trying to drum it into her head. Turnabout was only fair play after all.

"Burn the worlds to the ground first," he said, then turned to look at the Operatives. "So when can we start the next round? Want to get this shit over with and out from under this fucking mountain."

**Author's Note**_**: **_ Well. I think life just took a turn downhill for these two. Awesome huh? I had a whole bit in here where he couldn't get her to wake up, and he was shaking her and yelling and threatening, because he'd really done a number on her and didn't know why. But I scrapped that. Too desperate this early in the game. Couldn't have her nearly dying that quickly.

Anyways, they aren't mine. Which I think you all know by now. But they sure are fun to torture. XD

Rachet: Good point. Interesting, no?

Shenandoah76209: Glad you like it! I like to try and weave things through the story. Interconnect and speak to the things that have gone before. And I hate long term planning too. Luckily, I'm down to needing more short term plotting than long range. And I dunno about the Operatives. Not really looking to punish them myself. I need them alive after all.

Guineverekay: Hehehe. I imagine if Riddick's home systems are close enough for him to have gotten there in a year or so, they probably show up on the scopes and stuff of astronomers. But really, there are enough problems at home, and the Alliance has enough trouble keeping the 'Verse in order, much less looking outside it for trouble at this point. Glad you liked ;)

: Glad you liked! I'll keep them coming!


	47. Chapter 47

Ch. 47

_Wait, I'm coming undone_

_Irate, I'm coming undone_

_Too late, I'm coming undone_

_What looks so strong, so delicate_

_Wait, I'm starting to suffocate_

_And soon I anticipate_

_I'm coming undone_

_What looks so strong, so delicate_

"Coming Undone" Korn

River knew he was being as careful as possible as he slipped out from under her. There was a point though, where careful did nothing for the bruised ribs, dislocated shoulders, and general feeling that she'd been run through a meat grinder. She bit her lip on the pain, felt his hand ghost over her hair in acknowledgement, and burrowed her way a little further under the covers to hold onto the warmth from his body just a little longer. She'd twined herself around the animal and latched on with hands and feet, tucking her chin up under its jaw; and it rumbled in her mind as he went about finding underwear and pants. He'd had to start wearing two layers to keep everything a little better camouflaged ever since they'd kicked the servants out. Not that it really helped.

She hadn't liked them seeing him in all his naked glory the first morning one of them had come to bring breakfast and nearly gotten killed when they surprised the pair awake. She liked even less the idea of them seeing him wander the complex with the bulge in his pants front and center. Apparently all men woke the same way, no matter how many times she got him up during the night with her burning need to crawl under and over and have him do the same with her. He'd grumbled, but caved when she threatened to go get their breakfasts in nothing but her slip. It hid nothing, rode right up her hips when she bent over, and he never could let her keep it on long enough for them to make it into bed. It had been a gift from Inara a couple of days after they'd arrived. River knew that if she hated the idea of the women of Mik-lat seeing _him_ wander the place with his morning erection; then he hated even more the idea of her wearing something less than nothing and being out under the eyes of strange men.

She waited till he'd let the door shut behind him to ease her way out of the bed. Pain rippled through her body as she braced herself to stand. One swift movement, some swaying for balance, a couple unsteady steps later and she was halfway to the bathroom. He'd tried to help her the first couple times, when the sprain on her wrist was still fresh and the left shoulder had first been dislocated. She'd snarled at him, told him there was nothing wrong with her legs, yet, and proved it by driving her heel into the spreading bruise over his own ribs. He'd dropped her on her _pi gu _and let her pick herself up as he left the room.

The weapon was making her feet move, keeping her on an even keel as she staggered into the shower and started turning handles. The spray hit her, hot and driving and she let it. The animal was still rumbling around the girl as the man growled and loomed and got the cook moving just a little bit faster. He'd be back soon; the kitchens weren't all that far. She wanted the muscles and tendons and everything else loosened up before he returned. She always tried to get as much done for herself before he bulled his way back into her space. Not that she'd fight him much, but it was still the principle of the thing.

He was tracking her as much as she was tracking him. The animal nudged her shoulder, blessedly pain free in the mental as it wasn't in the physical. He'd managed to get their food in record time, although she knew it was because the cook had learned to keep things on hand and ready. They had no sleep pattern any more, no rhythm of life beyond wake, work on the triggers, and back to sleep to rest their broken bodies. And the sex. Anytime, anywhere they could manage. Usually they made it back to their room. Sometimes they didn't. Everyone, even Simon and Mal, had learned to listen at a door, knock and _wait _before entering any room; or to check around corners of darkened hallways and the little balconies scattered around the complex. They had an absolute _need_ that drove them to crawl in each other's skin and live there as long as they could before the _ta me da_ triggers kicked in and ripped their minds apart. The desperation was just too much.

Their minds. She'd thought they'd gotten closer while she was bleeding. Thought they'd fused together the cracks and fissures left after the night she'd given him her memories. They hadn't been close. Now they were close. The girl lived plastered to the jaguar, taking comfort and solace in its steady warmth and the breath that vibrated through its bones. The weapon tended to pour herself over the man, a kind of second skin; reveling in every shift of the mind and twitch of synapse firing beneath her.

Somehow they made it through the days, through the pain of their beat up bodies and the heartache of yet another failed attempt. He was her shield against the anguish of her family and the disapproval of her father and brother. She was apples and rain and charcoal living in his nose and brain. He did his level best to keep her there so he wouldn't have to smell the anger and hatred of Simon and Mal, the worry and concern of the Operatives, the fear of the servants around them. Maybe, just maybe, if they could occupy the same space with two heart beats long enough. If they could merge their minds so fully that they shared the same thoughts at the same time, that they never needed to speak again, even with the telepathy; maybe the triggers wouldn't be able to work. Maybe they could be free.

It was exhausting. No person was made to live in another's head. People should have their own thoughts, their own feelings. He was privy to all of hers now. And she knew just how frustrated he was with the servants, with being stuck under this mountain, with the fact that she could injure herself even worse in her quest for some sort of independence. He thought it was because most of his injuries didn't show on the surface, except for bruises and a few minor cuts, while hers made her look like a walking disaster victim. Four weeks it had been, since that first disastrous trial run. Four weeks of pain and agony and sometimes wondering if he was trying to keep the old promise of never letting her walk straight again. That he had the stamina for it amazed her, but she wasn't going to complain.

She winced as she tried to raise her arms to dump the shampoo over her hair. Her strikes at nerve clusters and joints and genitalia just didn't leave as much obvious damage as his big fists could. And when he caught her, got her in reach, it was all the harder to keep from being flattened. The door to the bathroom opened, and he stepped into the shower behind her. She could feel him, huge and warm and ready for her as he pressed against her back and took the bottle from her hands. She whimpered slightly, tilted her head back so the suds wouldn't get in her eyes, and let him do what her pained shoulders prevented her from. It was part of their routine after all, and she knew what came next.

Long fingers, strong but gentle, turned her around so the water would rinse the smell of green tea leaves from her hair and make way for coconut and mangos. He preferred apples and rain covered in warm vanilla, but he'd never complained about the smell of the stuff. She didn't care either way. It was what had been given when she was first here, and it was what the room had been stocked with when she returned. So long as she was clean. She didn't care what she smelled like so long as he was the one working those fingers over her scalp and through her hair as she traced patterns in the water running over his chest and down his legs,. It would be musk and warm fur and vanilla soon enough anyways.

He was covering her with kisses as he worked the conditioner in, moving his lips from forehead to eyes to nose, mouth and cheeks and over the shell of her ears. Her knees were weak, and she arched against him as he tipped her head back, feeling the long hard length of him against her belly as she clung to his arms and tried to keep herself upright. The man was merging with the jaguar again, and the girl-weapon was melting _through_ them both. The tree stood, abandoned, and the stream lay quiescent as they moved among the roots.

He was backing her up now, one slow careful step at a time, towards the bench that lined the long wall, and he let go of her head so that he could cup his hands under her _pi gu _and lift her off her feet. She marveled at those hands. Those big, strong hands that could do some much damage and held so much care. Lips and tongue and teeth, she nipped and sucked and kissed her way down his chest as he sat her down. She had hold of his hips now, and took the length of his shaft between her teeth and bit gently before running her tongue up to the divot just below the head. He groaned and she felt his knees, already weakened by her multiple attempts at shattering the caps, give way. He managed not to lose complete control as he dropped, but she felt the shocks of pain ripple from his mind to hers and whimpered as he took a breast in his mouth and scraped his teeth over the hard nipple in revenge.

Something flashed in her mind, a firework, or a bomb. She wasn't sure. All she knew was that her skin was too confining, the heat of the shower too much, and the only way she knew to gain any relief was with _more_. More of him, more of the furnace that was his body and mind.

She arched her back, entirely unable to stop herself, and clamped her knees around his sides as he worked his way over the surface of one breast and over to the other. She could feel the throbbing, deep between her legs, and knew she was twitching and writhing as she smeared her scent all over him. He was savoring it, leaning in, the rumble in his chest almost as good as when he bent to hum and nibble at her center.

She was whimpering in counterpoint to his growl, and her fingers just couldn't stay still. Over his head, around his ears, down his neck to his shoulders and then his arms where they lays over her thighs. He was making progress, paying special attention to her hip bones as one of the few spots on her body not in pain. They were covered in bruises though. His marks. His territory. Her body was his and his belonged to her.

He always tried to keep her from doing much to him, to keep her from hurting herself worse than she already was. Most days she fought him over it, shoving hands away, butting him in the chest with her head and pinning him down to exact her own form of torture on his body. But it was too early for any of that right now, and her mind just wanted the comfort of his touch.

He chuckled, letting the sound of his voice run over her like lava as he wrapped his hands around her hips and pressed his nose to her center. She could feel it up her spine, the sound of him, and her neural responses started backfiring, all control lost as she jerked and twitched and moaned in his grasp. Her knees were digging into his ribs and she knew he could feel the pain of it, but she also knew he didn't mind. The boundaries between their minds were dissolving and she found herself reaching for the foundation, for the spotted metal at their core as she tried to hold onto sanity long enough to form a thought. Something about that niggled at her brain, but his teeth were scraping gently and there were bombs in her head and then she was _shrieking_, insides locked down and shaking herself nearly off the bench as she came under his lips.

He was groaning, his nose pouring blood from she knew not what, and he yanked her down, dragging her over his chest and keeping a finger in place to rub and pull and prolong the effect. And then he was in her, large and long and filling her completely and she gasped and ground down, and down again. She could feel his balls, huge and taught beneath her as her arms went numb and she forgot where her feet were. His collarbone was under her teeth, already cracked from one of their sessions earlier in the week.

He roared in pain, grabbed her under the shoulders and lifted until he was almost out of her, and kept her there as she squirmed and writhed and shuddered until her eyes rolled up into her head. He let her, making all her involuntary motions do the work for him, moving him just a little in, just a little out. He was using the bench as a brace, his shoulders weren't in much better shape than hers; and it wasn't until she was almost done that he dropped his elbows, took her hips in his hands, and slammed her down. Over and over, she moved with him, scrabbling to get her feet under her and add leverage. She was building again, he was a warm presence under the molten metal, and together they were burning up like a star gone supernova.

One last yank and he stilled, hips the only thing moving as he poured himself into her and groaned between teeth clenched so hard she could hear the bones creaking. One of the involuntary grinding motions set her insides off again, and the pain of it was exquisite as she came again, pushing herself down his shaft and mewling in a voice she knew was broken as she felt her cervix open to him. It hurt, by all the stars and all the faulty gods. But it was a hurt she could never get enough of, knowing he was in her, as deep as was physically possible. She didn't know where his mind ended and hers began; the tree and stream and the cave and the well all gone and only this presence remaining.

She clung to it, wrapped her legs around his waist and rocked her hips so violently she nearly tipped them over. She never wanted to lose this, never wanted to be without him under her skin and in her mind, and the need was all the stronger for the fact that she knew in a few hours they'd be mindless in a different way. A different hurt, that left bruises and could shatter bones and how could they have _this_ and not somehow keep it long enough to fight their way out of the triggers?

He shoved that thought away, pushed it out of her mind and stuffed it down the hole where he used to keep the animal but now kept all their doubts and fears. She'd learned to let him. It would all come back anyways, and then she'd yank the stream over their heads and try and drown them instead. Nothing worked. They both knew it. But for a little while, so long as they remembered who and what they were, things could be ok. Just another moment, another breath. Another heartbeat.

He was murmuring into her shoulder, things in a language she didn't think he knew. She shifted against him, laid a kiss under his jaw, and his fingers clamped down once before he let her up. The shower had filled the room with fog, and his eyes gleamed silver at her through the dim light as he finally met her gaze. She kissed him again, this time on the lips, and the jaguar purred as she tasted his blood on her mouth. The nose would stop bleeding soon, and the pounding water would wash the rest of it away. Until then neither of them minded much. They were covered in the hazards of their relationship after all, and if the day came when one of them wasn't marked in blood and bruises and bite marks they'd probably be dead anyways.

She could feel the fluids between her legs, warm as the mess slipped from her and ran down the inside of her thigh. She let it, easing off of him and back onto the bench. The animal was sending her the smell, even covered as it was by the fog the shower was laying down. Vanilla, musk, warm fur and heat. Sex and sweat. She never reached for the body wash until after they'd finished bringing each other to climax. No point really.

That he let her clean off at all he considered a privilege she should pay for. He wanted the scent on her, the markers that told him she was his and he was hers. Maybe today she'd let him have it, have an extra anchor in reality before they were locked in an empty room and cartoons and jingles drove them beyond madness. _Cao_, she'd let him take her again, mark her however he liked, even imprint his DNA in her very bones if he could if only it would help.

::We'll manage something,:: he told her as he turned to sit between her knees and she reached for the can of shave cream and razor sitting on the shelf nearby. The stubble on his head was noticeable, and it just didn't seem _right_ to let it stay. It was the image, the mental picture she had of the man and the man, that wouldn't let her leave it alone. He'd laughed the first time she sat down behind him two weeks ago and started scraping the fine hairs from his head, and it had become part of their routine ever since. Even on the days when it hadn't grown out enough to need taking care of, she'd sit behind him and examine his head, feeling the fine scars, blood vessels, and sutures between the plates of his skull as he ran calloused fingers up her calves and over her knees and back down to the bones of her feet. Another anchor, another piece of a day that was as much the same as the last as they could make it. Another piece of herself imbedded in him and another bit of mortar in the walls he was building around her. Desperation and futility, all in one.

:: Don't know what to try anymore,:: she admitted as she pulled the razor over the sagittal suture and shook off the creamy white residue into the hissing spray of the shower. It was hard, admitting failure. She never failed at much, except when it came to her own mind. And she'd spent years clinging to the sanity, the meditation and hormones that let her pretend to be a real girl and not Ghepetto's puppet. Years of Let's Play Pretend, like a little girl with a box full of her mother's jewelry and a pair of oversized heels. Had she ever done that? Ever been a little girl? Or had her mind always been full of numbers and letters and the visual cues of those around her? Had Simon ever really had a sister? Or a living computer that only pretended humanity?

His hands on her ankles, gripping them tightly. She winced and bit back a whimper as the bruises there announced their presence. He let off on the pressure just slightly, but not enough for her to be able to ignore him. The animal pinned her with a paw, the man yanked the weapon closer, and the growl was both mental and physical. ::How many times I got to tell you girl? Get that shit out your head. Won't help anything and you know it.::

Claws, a pull, and she felt some of the tension drain from her and into him. How long could he keep that up? How long could he hold all her failures? Why would he never let go and let her take some of his? The well was deep after all. To drop a stone meant the splash would never be heard. How long could they continue like this?

:As long as we need to,:: he rumbled. She'd gotten half his head done, and smacked him on the shoulder when he tried to turn to look at her. He sneered and sat back, making sure his back was pressed right up against her center, forcing her knees up over his shoulders instead of around his body. She jabbed him in the temple, but didn't refuse. She was still leaking, and so long as he didn't turn his back to the shower he'd smell of vanilla and musk and sex for most of the day. For his nose only, and hers by way of the animal. Let them stare and be angry. He'd know just where he belonged, and it would make another day of this fucking torture just a little more bearable, to have her on him in a way no one else knew of.

River shook his thoughts from the forefront of her consciousness and drew the blade over the last of the stubble before flicking it off into the rushing water. The now smooth skin of his head felt good against hers, and she made sure to rub her breasts over it while she leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. He tipped his head back, and she caught his pleasure in the feel of her skin on his before he pulled her down for a kiss on the lips. A glance past his chin as he went for her ear proved that the lion analogy still held, and the warm fire in her belly was making itself known to him as well. She giggled as he purred against her throat, and allowed herself to be pulled off the bench and down to the floor. Food could wait after all. There were more important things than eating.

~HHYFN~

He'd gotten her to sit down in one of the chairs by the table and stood behind her, sectioning out her hair as she picked over the plates of food and fed them alternately. She felt the minds coming their way before he heard them, and he growled at the intent he caught through her. But they were effectively trapped in the room, and neither of the two men coming would let up till they'd gotten the talk they wanted anyways. Might as well get it over with. And get them out.

River agreed, and the irritation swimming through her brain only increased when the knock on the door finally came. He had to go unlock it, and yanking on the handle to indicate that it was open before going back to River. She reached up and popped a piece of boiled egg in his mouth before she let him come back around the chair again, and he was glad of having something in his mouth so he wouldn't have to talk. It was one thing to yell with his mouth full. Another entirely to spray bits of food all over her head.

Mal and Simon stood just inside the door, blinking in the dim light and trying to make out what was going on. Their eyes would adjust soon, but for now he savored their discomfort as they shifted from foot to foot and squinted. River was equal parts amused and frustrated, but she wasn't letting him see what she was catching off them. He growled and nudged her shoulder, but she was adamant. Whatever it they were thinking was either not that important or was probably going to snap the last nerve of patience he had with these two. No bets on which one it was.

"Good morning," she said finally, as he started twisting the sections of hair into ropes and handing them off to her to keep track of. The two by the door had finally caught sight of what they were doing, and surprise mixed with wary unease as they edged over to the table. Whatever perceived advantage they may have had in coming here so early was gone. Between the dark, the terse welcome, the unexpected sight of Riddick playing with River's hair, and the complete lack of interest the big man seemed to have in them, they were rapidly losing the force behind the words they'd come to say.

Riddick snorted. He was still having a hard time sorting his own observations from River's, what with the girl so firmly wrapped around the animal that she may as well have been surgically attached. And while normally he wouldn't have been caught dead doing what he was doing now, there wasn't much help for it at this point. She couldn't do it herself. The one time she'd tried and refused to let him help, she'd ended up hissing and leaking tears of pain at a somewhat alarming rate.

Her hair needed to be out of the way, plain and simple. Loose and trailing it was just another point of attack, and if he managed to get ahold of it and snap her neck, or throw her across the room and do who knew what kind of damage to her before Paul or Thomas could get them shut down, he had a feeling that the next bout of insanity wouldn't have anything to do with fucking commercials. He was doing enough damage as it was, and the animal was getting more and more pissed every time one of her injuries made itself known.

He knees twinged, and he bit back a growl. She was dishing out just as much damage as he was, maybe even more. He wondered who'd taught her the nerve strikes that stunned and disabled and set up him for the repeated kicks in the head, guts, or the joints. Whoever it was, they'd done their job well. He didn't always remember much about the times they were triggered, but he had flashes. She moved just as gracefully as when she knew what she was fighting for; and he only wished that there wasn't so much riding on the trials, on the test runs. He'd never liked to spar, never liked to practice. He got enough of that just trying to stay alive. And she had a temper on her like no woman he'd ever met. The opportunities to keep his reflexes in order hadn't been slim, even since the bonding. But it might be worth it, if they ever managed to get past the triggers, to start practicing with her.

Which would, of course, send her family into a collective heart attack. Fuckers anyway. He'd just about had it with the two in front of him. Man and animal were both looking for someone to tear into, and the anger and judging he'd been getting from them over the past three weeks had only added to the tension. Bad enough that being triggered was worse than cryo. He'd had his mind then, and even control over the greater motor functions of his body. Now he had neither. River had been keeping the waters of the stream high, drowning out the frustration and pain and anger as often as she could. But there was only so far that could go.

If they couldn't figure this out soon, if he couldn't keep enough of his mind together while triggered to reach for her through the bond and try and pull them both out of it, he didn't know what would happen. Maybe a repeat of the Wailing Wars drop. Maybe they'd just both go catatonic one day. He could see it happening. She was tracking his thoughts before they formed, even now, and he could feel the emotions running through her as she kept tabs on her Daddy and brother as well.

He was even catching some of their thoughts. One in particular nearly made him drop what he was doing and reach for his blades, but it had flashed and was gone so fast he nearly didn't believe he'd heard it. Yet another aspect of the bond rearing its head. They were so wrapped up in each other's minds that he counted it a wonder they even managed to function on a day to day basis.

Yet somehow they did. Her hair was all twisted and braided and he was tucking the ends under and around without even realizing he'd finished. She handed him the pins one at a time, but her outward focus was on Mal. The man reeked of discomfort, and the taste of his mind through hers was that of indecision. Riddick didn't need the girl to tell him why. It was fairly obvious. Here the man was, standing in a dark room with his daughter looking like death warmed over in front of him; and the man who had nearly beaten her to a pulp on several occasions over the last few weeks was standing behind her, _braiding _ her hair. It was dichotomy at its finest, and he had to be trying to fit all the pieces together, like a puzzle with no picture to reference.

Fucking idiot. Still hadn't learned.

Well he wasn't about to enlighten him. Let the man stew in his own juices a little longer. They had shit to get done, and the next set of trials with the fucking triggers might be even worse than the ones they'd attempted so far. Failures every one of them. Like a black hole sucking them in, first one would go, and then another. Fists and feet and blood and bones cracking while Paul or Thomas waited in the observation room and held off on sending the words that would drop them like stones.

The Operatives didn't try and say them themselves any more. They had a recording and a button. Because by the time it was obvious that this was yet another bust, one or the other of the pair in the room was usually one good hit away from finishing the other. Reflexes and speed and preternatural grace were all that had saved them so far, both from killing each other and from some far more critical injuries than the bruises, sprains, and the occasional hairline fracture. He'd knocked her out at one point, concussed her so completely the Operatives had refused to let them try again for days, until they were sure there hadn't been any permanent damage.

Simon had gone ballistic and gotten in his face the moment he woke from the unnatural sleep the fucking Russian words had stuck him in. That had earned the Doc a cracked rib and a bruise that covered half his face. Fucking idiot should have known better. Shouldn't have tried to keep him from checking on the girl. Lucky to be alive at all.

The weapon was flowing around his mind, following his train of thought as she piled a plate with eggs and olives and the tzatziki and pita. The animal turned up its nose at it, but food was food and he'd eaten stuff far less recognizable.

"Might as well sit," he grumbled as he nudged River to get her out of the chair, and steadied her with a hand on the shoulder as he took her place. She was still moving carefully, even after the heat of the shower had loosened up her muscles. He'd even managed to get her to sit still and let him work some muscle balm into her shoulders once they'd dried off. It had, of course, devolved into another mad frenzy of flesh against flesh, and she'd finally succeeded in pinning him to the bed and sucking him off. Her knees weren't nearly pulverized after all. He'd gotten his revenge though. What she had planned for the four times he'd nearly brought her to climax, only to back off and run his mouth over her legs instead he had no idea, but it would be fun to find out. Far better to worry about that instead of the upcoming torture the day was about to put them through.

Simon and Mal hadn't moved, and he knew it wasn't because they disapproved of their continued use of one chair for two people. It was long habit by now. Just one more way for the animal to hook a little deeper into her psyche and try and tether itself to the weapon while the man held them all by short leashes. River's mind was hard to keep hold of though, what with these two radiating anger and a million other things through their minds, and he growled before he could stop himself.

"We will not stop," the girl said, steel and cool water floating through the air around her and over his skin. "We will not give up."

"'Tross," Mal ran his hands through his hair and dropped onto the wooden chest behind him. "Been three weeks. Ya'll…" He shook his head and groaned. "It's not workin'. Don't ya see girl?"

"Don't matter," Riddick swallowed a bit of pita and tzatziki and snugged River in a little closer. And it didn't. "Can't not finish. Can't take the chance. You seen all the finished products now. Really want that on your boat? Waitin' to blow up?"

Mal's face twisted, Simon's hardened, and irritation and frustration bloomed in the air. Their thoughts were more of the same, less words and more feelings, at least as he got them from the girl. He knew they wouldn't leave River, even if she was a grenade with no pin. Even if it meant keeping him around. He'd seen it in the weeks since he'd come on board. Twice now they'd run themselves nearly to death looking for her. And they'd do everything in their power to keep her safe.

Except, at this point, safe might really mean a bullet to the brain one day. If either _one_ of them ever got near a trigger again. Bad enough if they were on a planet. Worse if something filtered through the Cortex on the ship. It would be short. It would be bloody. And if they didn't get this shit figured out, it would be absolutely lethal.

Thomas had explained it to him, cutting through all the medical jargon and Doc-speak bullshit and getting right to the point. There were triggers for non-lethal mayhem. There were a couple for lethal. The one that had been used on River in the Maidenhead all those years ago had been designed for non-lethal action until a deadly threat placed itself in her path. At which point she'd go from disabling strikes to the fastest way she knew of killing a person. It explained why they'd gone for each other's throats the first time he'd been triggered. Breaking out of the room, heading through the halls, nobody had been any sort of threat to him till he'd homed in on her. And she on him.

The girl voiced his thoughts then, as he moved on from memory to the present and into planning the short term future. He was still trying to figure it all out, but he was almost hoping today. Almost ready to believe there might be a light at the end of this tunnel.

"Starting the incompletes today," she whispered as she passed another boiled egg over her shoulder. He took it, sliced it in half, and handed her the slightly bigger side. That got him a thumb jammed into one of the bruises on his leg and a gentle hand over the ears of the animal. Apples and rain and faint traces of vanilla were hidden under the steel in her scent and voice. He took it and wove it into the bond, as deep as he could. They'd need it, they'd need every bit of strength they could manage, and he had _no_ intention of walking into that room any less than prepared. He never did, and yet he always failed.

The animal yowled a protest, and the weapon hit the man over the head for the thought.

"River, the incompletes…" Simon shook his head. "Paul and Thomas didn't want to try those for a reason. Bad enough the finished ones make you try to kill each other. What if," he coughed to cover the desperation that cracked his voice and tried again. "What if something breaks? What if they there's something in your psych that just…can't take it?" His voice was dropping, and lemons were seeping into the air.

Riddick curled a lip and sneered. He knew the man wasn't afraid of him. River knew it too. It hurt her though; made bitter herbs cut through the vanilla and taint the apples. And there wasn't a fucking thing he could do about it. How do you argue with right?

How do you give up hope?

The rage was coming again, that burning fire that roared straight out of the cave and threatened to immolate anything in its path, him included. He'd caught that stray thought again from one of the men in front of him. Maybe both. If River noticed she'd passed it on to him she didn't comment. Didn't cut the trickle from their minds to hers to his. She was absorbed in trying to get her brother and Captain Daddy to see that that this was the only way left. The only thing they could do to try and move forward. To be free.

There was that word again. It was what lit the fire, gave it oxygen, and gave it life. It had fueled the animal madness when he was finally let out of cryo on the Howling Planet, all those years ago. It was what turned his veins blue and lit him up like a fucking light bulb. It was defiance, in all the flavors and colors of the word. It was what he fed into this girl in his lap, just as she fed him strength and the calm needed to keep from snapping and tearing this whole fucking mountain down around their ears.

Every trial, every cartoon commercial and fucking children's chorus only fanned it higher. She'd been right, back when she talked him into this madman's venture. They would never be free, never be able to stop looking over their shoulders. Never be able to trust a single thing in the world around them until they knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the triggers were either gone completely or they could fight them down, every time.

She wasn't bothering with the waters. The doubts and fears were being incinerated down in their hole, and all that would happen if she tried to calm him down would be steam, boiling heat, and a fucking shitload of violence. He might kill her brother. He'd pretty definitely kill Mal. And then he'd take her, right in the middle of the pile of bodies, because the animal was raging and he needed her to be his anchor and lately there was only one thing that grounded him in reality and that was her.

She'd slipped off his lap, leaving vanilla and traces of sex and mint in her wake. He nearly reached for her, but the girl walloped the animal and the weapon puddled around the man and froze him in place; and he really couldn't get all his limbs working right anyways. He would in a second, but right now his dick and the rage were in charge and they overloaded any cognitive thought.

She was shoving at Mal and her brother, and he could hear her through the mist that surrounded him as he gripped the edge of the chair beneath him and the table beside him and felt his hands creak in protest. She was running right over their arguments, their denial of the inevitable. They wouldn't be able to change her mind, and it was no use going to Paul and Thomas because they'd just do whatever she asked anyways.

Then he caught that thought again. Strong this time, with how close the girl was wrapped around the animal in her attempts to keep it from exploding. It was enough to stun the beast and bring the man to the fore. Their minds were running along the same tracks, these men. What the ruttin' hell did Riddick think he was doing? What did either of them think they were doing? For all the Doctor and the Captain pricked and poked at each other, when it came to River, they were united in one thing. Keeping her safe. And to them, that meant he was a threat. What kind of twisted love was this, they wanted to know, that made her let this man beat her black and blue, cuss her and throw her across rooms. What kind of love drove her to this kind of madness?

Words were stones. Neither man had said a thing. They were smart enough for that.

He didn't give a fuck.

Levering himself out of the chair, he stepped up behind River and cupped her head in his palm. She melted into him as he dropped a kiss on her crown, and only stumbled a little as he gave her a light push towards the door. "Let Thomas know we're ready," he rumbled, and was proud of how even his voice was. "I'll be there in a minute."

A quick skim through his mind, a fleeting caress to the jaw of the animal, and she slipped past her would-be protectors and out the door. She knew this needed to be done. She knew they wouldn't listen if she said it. Hell, she'd been saying it, one way or another, ever since they'd woken up on that fucking ship all those weeks ago.

The heart rates of the two in front of him were speeding up, but there weren't any lemons in the air. Good. He didn't need them afraid. Afraid would bring the animal back to the forefront and right now he needed to be able to speak in words. He had plenty for them, but it all came down to this. "Ain't about love," he growled. "Love don't even enter into it."

"I don't know-" Simon started. A look from hard silver eyes shut him up. Mal had kept his mouth closed, the first smart thing he'd done since he walked in this room.

"It's about being equal," Riddick continued. "Matched. Seeing each other as we are." He was crowding them towards the door now, muscling down the animal as it tried to take control of the hunt and stalk. "You people, you've never seen her. Not as she is. And you sure as fuck don't see me as anything other than a violent lunatic." He had them up against the wall now, literally, and Mal was starting to finger his gun. Simon was turning into the Doctor again, all stubbornness and hard eyes and knowing he was _right_.

"River though, she's looking deeper. Knows everything I've ever been, every bad choice, fucked up decision and failure I've ever made. Ain't about love." He spat the word out like it was poison, and in this case it was. It was weak tea, something that just didn't describe what they had. Nothing really did. "'S about acceptance, you dumb fucks. About seeing all that I am and not only accepting it, but seeing the good too. Whatever the hell I've done with my life, she sees something she _wants_."

He wanted to pulverize them, pound them down to bloody pulp. The animal was starting to slip its leash, and the man sent out a frantic call for the girl to pin its ass to the ground long enough for him to finish what he'd started here. She snorted, but complied, and the weapon moved to help. He found himself standing there, breathing deep and feeling the humming in his veins that always came in advance of the glow. He had to let it be. He didn't have the attention to spare to keep from lighting up.

"As for the girl," he said when he thought he had himself under control. "You people are so fucking blind it's a wonder she's ever come back to you. Think she _wants_ to live like this? Wants to be a weapon when it's convenient and a child to be coddled when it's not?" He was glaring at Mal, whose face was stony and every cue in his body and scent giving off warnings signs.

He switched to Simon. "Or you think she wants to be that little girl forever? The one you still can't stop trying to turn her back into?" His fist landed on the wall next to the man's head and he was growling. "She can't go back. Never! She'll never be the little sister you knew."

Hearts were thudding, but there weren't any lemons in the air. Good. He wouldn't get anywhere with them scared. Scared men were unpredictable. These two, angry as they were, were less so.

"See her as she is now. Not fucking broken. She's something new, damn you." He was growling, and he stepped back to get himself out of their air space and give himself a second to put the words in order. "Think _this_ is torture? Think _I'm_ doing this to her? Fuck that. You people been putting her through worse. Every day she's on that fucking boat, you've been turning the screws. Expecting her to be something she's not. Only looking at what you think you see and never looking under the surface. So fuck love."

He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck before stepping forward again, ignoring them as they flinched away. Her scent was fading from his nose and he wanted it back. She'd almost be to the observation room by now. "And fuck you if you think you have any right to judge us for trying to be free."

Halfway out the door, he turned to glare at them. The hall outside their room was kept dim on purpose; he wouldn't need to pull his goggles down yet. He knew his eyes were eerie in the half light. He liked it that way. The girl was still twisted around the animal, but it was getting stronger and unless he got out of there soon he knew that he'd do something that would hurt her far worse than anything that had happened so far. They didn't deserve her, not in the least. But she'd still want them alive.

"We get done with this trial, that window opens, I don't want to be seeing you again. Come back to this mountain before we're through and I'll paint the walls with your blood."

A whisper from the girl, and he sighed before relenting. He wasn't getting their thoughts now that she was gone, but he knew she was right. They wouldn't let them stay up here alone anyways. For any number of reasons. "Send whoever you want back up. Inara. Jayne maybe. But you two," he leaned forward to growl and was satisfied to see them back away. "Stay the fuck away from us."

The animal was raging. The weapon had her bladed hands and feet in its shoulders and hips to try and keep it immobilized; and the girl knelt by its head and tried to sooth it with whispers and promises. The man turned on his heel, slammed the door behind him, and pulled his goggles over his eyes as he stalked down the hall. Another day, another run through the wringer.

Maybe if he held onto the rage and the girl and the weapon kept clinging to the animal, maybe this time it'd work. Maybe, with the trigger they were about to try being incomplete, maybe this time they had a chance.

**Author's Note**: Been a little longer than usual with this one. Sorry about that. I was working on an entry for the Riddick movie poster contest and it kinda sucked me in. Posted my entry last night and then sat there, not really knowing what to do with myself. A week straight of drawing, tweaking, etc and my brain had flipped a switch somewhere. But I'm back now. And I need to get this sucker finished. There's a light at the end of this tunnel. I just need to hold out a little longer. /collapse

Hope you all like this chapter. I'm really trying to get across their desperation and failure and their reactions to it. Things aren't going well. And I think Mal and Simon should count themselves lucky to be alive. This was going to be an entirely different chapter, where Riddick sat next to River after he'd beaten her so hard she was bedridden for a week and Mal came in and saw him there and was much more understanding. He was going to mention love and how he'd misjudged Riddick and blah blah blah. Instead, River's all desperate, Riddick is pissy, and Mal comes to pick a fight. I just can't get these two muleheaded men to bend. Either one of them. Grrr. But that's ok. I kind of like how it turned out. Kicks things off and stirs things up.

As always, thanks so much for the views and REviews and watches and favs and everything! Love you all!

Also, they aren't mine. Haven't you figured that out by now?

Shenandoah76209: Glad you saw that coming. It took me a few chapters to think of it. Seemed logical after all. Hope you liked this one! Mal and Simon kept their mouths shut (sort of), didn't really help though did it? As for that whole Riddick and Mal seeing eye to eye thing? Yeaaaaaaah. Don't think that's gonna happen any time soon.

Rachet: Hope so. Course, they have to stop beating each other to a pulp in the first place!

: Glad you liked it! I don't know who put them to sleep. Hadn't really thought of it. Take your pick

Translations:

_pi gu_- ass

_cao-_ fuck

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Lilac: mischief

Swamp water: horror


	48. Chapter 48

Ch. 48

_Here now don't make a sound_

_Say have you heard the news today?_

_One flag was taken down_

_To raise another in its place_

_A heavy cross you bear_

_A stubborn heart remains unchanged_

_No home, no life, no love_

_No stranger singing in your name_

"Long Road to Ruin" Foo Fighters

Inara was just unloading the last of her packages from the back of the mule when she heard footsteps on concrete and looked up to see her husband and Simon stalking towards the ship. They both looked like thunder, but whatever argument they were having, it didn't seem like they were mad at each other. That was good. The fact that Paul was behind them, face set in stern lines, made things very, very bad.

A glance over at Zoe and the Companion knew that whatever was about to happen, it was going to go from bad to worse in record time. The first mate was watching the Operative with a closed face, lips thinned and jaw set. She'd avoided him wherever possible since the first day in Mik-lat, and it had been made easier by the fact that he rarely left the sanctuary of the underground base. Thomas had usually been the one to let them in and out, bringing Mal down to sign for an order of parts, or Simon so he could make sure Kaylee wasn't working too hard on the overhaul that _Serenity_ was getting. And for the sex of course. They could all go up and stay a night or so if they chose, till the next window opened, but the atmosphere of the place was oppressive, and everyone was distracted by River and Riddick and whatever fresh hell they were putting themselves through that day.

It was easier to stay on the ship, all things considered.

"I still think we' should have waited a bit longer. Seen if they managed it," Simon's voice was heated, and now that he was closer, Inara could see a vein bulging on his temple. What in the name of all things holy had happened?  
"You know what was gonna happen Simon. Same thing as every other time they've gone into that gorram room. You waitin' around for it wasn't gonna change anythin'." Mal was angry, the cold anger that usually spelled trouble of the worst sort. The sort that usually ended with him bleeding and half unconscious in the infirmary.

Inara looked up to meet Zoe's eyes and got just as much confusion from the other woman as she was feeling. A glance over at Paul and she finally noticed he was carrying the small duffels the two men had packed when they first took up residence in the complex.

"Mal," she breathed. "What?"

He stopped dead, like he'd just noticed that he'd arrived home. She waited, breath held in her chest while his jaw worked and the storm clouds gathered in his eyes. Finally, about the time she thought she needed to draw breath or pass out; he threw up his hands and barked. "Gorram Riddick threw us out!"

She gaped as he stalked past her and over to the controls for the airlock doors and thumbed the shipwide. "Jayne," he roared into the speaker. "Get your ass down here."

A moment. Another. He stood there, shoulders tight and anger in every line of his body.

"Simon," Zoe's voice was quiet. Calm. The rock that kept them together. "What happened?"

"Like he said," Simon turned to take his bag from Paul, who had chosen the wisest course of action and kept his mouth shut. "He threw us out. Told us that if we went back up there before he and River figured out how to get past the triggers he'd kill us." The Doctor took a breath and drug his hand over his face. "And I believe him too. He was…I don't know. I don't even know how he knew what we were thinking."

Jayne was clomping down the stairs behind them, but she didn't have any time to pay attention to his grumbling. She was still trying to process what Simon had just told them. Had she heard that right? Not that she didn't believe him. Riddick had never been predictable. And the few times she'd seen him since he and River had started this mad gamble of theirs he'd been…different. There was a wildness to the man that hadn't been there even during that first week he'd been aboard _Serenity_. Like he was hanging on to sanity and control by a bare thread. River too, looked like hell, in every sense of the word. And the noises that could be heard, almost completely at random; from any given room or shadowed nook at all hours of the day were very telling of exactly how the two were coping with the strain.

"Jayne, go get some stuff packed. You too 'Nara," Mal had come back over to the group by the mule. Before he could go any further, or anyone could ask why, they heard a faint squeal and the drumming of small feet on a deck. He sighed, and Inara shook her head.

Zoe just gave her Captain a flat look that told him it was entirely his fault and went to catch her daughter as she came through the hatch at the rear of the bay. The little girl was covered in grime and grease, and her hair stuck out every which way. Kaylee came running after her, calling for her to get back and let her get cleaned up before she went and got everyone filthy. It was too late in Zoe's case, and the woman's mouth twisted wryly as she gave Sierra over to Kaylee, who was just as dirty as the girl. Inara had a brief moment to wonder what exactly the pair had been getting up to, but she shoved the thought aside in favor of the bigger issue.

"Mal, start from the beginning," she said.

Her husband looked at her as if he was just seeing her, and just like that all the fight went out of him. He shook his head and wrapped an arm around her, and she leaned into the warmth of it. It was somewhat akin to being comforted by an angry bear, but at this point she'd take what she could get. She hadn't seen him in almost a week after all.

Simon had moved to give Kaylee a hug, and was running careful hands over her stomach as the young woman whispered in his ear and giggled. A smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth and he shook his head at her before sobering and looking back to Paul. The Operative stood there, still holding Mal's bag, and Inara couldn't read anything in his face. She'd always hated that about this man, how he could put up a wall and defy all attempts to figure out what he was thinking. He'd been making an effort to be pleasant and polite around the crew, but the fact of the matter was that none of them were anywhere near as forgiving as River. She wasn't sure, but she had an idea that even Riddick would have happily gutted the man, and he'd had far less experience with Paul than any of the others.

For now though, he surrendered Simon's bag with a nod and offered the other one to Mal.

He took it, slung it over his shoulder, and ran a hand through his hair. "We went ta go talk to them," he said after a moment, and the frustration in his voice made it clear without any other elaboration exactly how that had turned out. "Try and get them ta see reason. Call this thing off 'fore one of them dies."

Inara eyed her husband, but kept her opinions to herself. She knew what they were really worried about, and it wasn't the _pair_. It was River. Two of the most overprotective men she knew, and they'd been locked up in Mik-lat for three weeks watching their girl throw herself into a meat grinder. Over and over. She was starting to see why Riddick kicked them out.

"She wouldn't listen," Simon said, arm wrapped around Kaylee's shoulders and his eyes full of hurt. "Wouldn't even let us get it out. Just told us no."

Inara crossed her arms and looked from one man to the other. Beside her, she knew Zoe was giving her Captain her own version of the River look. Men. Always trimming the story. Always trying to show themselves in the best light. She knew there was more to it than that.

When the two just looked angry, she glanced over at Paul. Whatever she may think of the man, she knew he probably had a good idea of what had really happened. If only because Mal and Simon wouldn't have shut up about it on the way here.

The man's mouth twisted, and she thought from the look in his eyes that he might be mildly amused. "They have a point Captain Reynolds. If they do not go through with this endeavor; if they leave it half finished," he folded his hands behind his back and shrugged, "the consequences could be catastrophic, both on the personal level and on a system wide level. They could be found by Blue Sun or the Alliance. Or they could kill you all."  
"_Cao_," Jayne breathed as he stared at Mal. "An' you _still_ want to bring that trouble back on the boat?"

Inara didn't know if she wanted to gape or hug, or slap the big gun hand. The first two were undignified, the last just plain beneath her. But he had a point, and with all his usual tact he'd jumped into it feet first.

"She ain't had any problems though," Zoe said. She was frowning, and her fingers were tapping out a rhythm on her arms as she searched for the best way to phrase her thoughts. "Not for years."

"Not till Riddick showed up," Mal growled. Inara buried a sigh in her chest and shook her head at the man. The look he gave her was indignant and puzzled all at the same time. This was shaping up to be a fine argument, and the battle lines were clear. Except for her. Damn all the training she'd gone through, all of the mediator's skills and tact her instructors had drilled into her head. She could see both sides of the coin, and the merits of each.

Paul was opening his mouth to reply when Kaylee shifted Sierra over to her other hip, then set her down on the floor. Her face was puzzled, and she was looking from Mal to Simon to Zoe and back like she was afraid one of them was going to cut her off. Which, given the tempers of those three the past few weeks, wasn't too far off the mark. "I thought," she started, shook her head, and reached for Simon's hand. "I thought he was gonna be helpin' her with this. 'Sides, weren't like he triggered her in the first place."

A drink would be nice right around now. For everyone. Inara had a brief moment to wish she had gotten them all to sit down, but the friction in the air sparked on the tinder before she could try and get them moving.

Mal threw his hands in the air and snapped something about _gou tsao de_ lunatics and how they were more trouble than they were worth and he should have never brought the man on board in the first place. Simon was indulging in a similar rant, although this one veered off into the territories of "Still didn't see how any of this was possible," and "How had they let themselves get talked into this anyways?"

There were also a few colorful comments as to the nature of Riddick's character in general being thrown around and what kind of twisted things must being going on his and River's head to have them in any sort of relationship with each other; much less one that had them walking around looking like giant bruises most of the time.

Something in the quality of Simon's voice at that last comment niggled at her, but before she could pin it down, she found herself distracted by the turmoil of the people around her. Kaylee was trying to placate her husband and talk Mal around. Jayne had crossed his arms and was yelling at them all. Something about the pair going wooly again, did Mal really want to worry about them losing their minds out in the Black? Did he plan to abandon River? Or did he want to bring them back on board and roll the dice with their lives? Just how much of a death wish did he have for himself and his crew if he was even considering getting them to quit trying to beat past the triggers?

That, of course, set Mal off into a minor apoplectic fit, and he pulled out his usual trump card of "I'm the Captain and what I say goes." Inara bit her lip on the automatic reply that threatened to spill out of her mouth. It would do no good to remind him that River always talked her way around him and Riddick would probably just ignore him anyways. That point had already been proven, as evidenced by the fact that her husband was standing there in the first place. He'd lost the battle, and she knew that at this point, the only thing keeping him on this planet was the fact that River had refused to leave. She was crew, after all. Family. And no matter how much he might snap and argue, he wasn't about to abandon her to this mad escapade.

No, what was really sending his mind in a fit was Riddick. The man steamrolled anyone who got in his way, and for Mal that was just unacceptable. _He_ was the one who ran roughshod over his crew, doing everything in the name of their best interests as he saw it. _He_ was the one who'd taken River and her brother in, sheltered them and helped them find their feet in this new life. _He,_ Malcom Reynolds, had been the man who threw himself and his crew into the Reaver's snakepit so he could have a shot at getting them all out from the line of fire they'd ended up in.

And now there was this man. He didn't care what Mal thought, he didn't look after the crew as a whole. No, he looked to River, and for her she knew that he'd do exactly what he promised. Burn the universe to the ground if it seemed like it would keep her safe. And now, for the past four weeks; and however long it took them to find a way to beat the triggers, he was starting with himself.

She'd seen the bruises. The bandages and stitches. On both of them. It was awful. Horrible beyond words, what they were doing to each other and themselves. But she didn't believe for a minute that Riddick would be submitting himself to this sort of prolonged torture if it weren't for a very good reason. The man had the same obsession with freedom as Mal. But he pursued it on an individual level, and not the 'Verse wide scale her husband had during the war. That he would go along with being triggered in the first place, on purpose, meant that River had had to talk him around. Whatever Mal and Simon thought, the weight for this didn't land on the man. Or even River.

She looked over at Paul, who was watching the argument from the sidelines. Hands still behind his back and face set in an impassive mask, his eyes were tracking from one person to the other. All of a sudden she wanted to claw them out. He was the one who'd started this, all those years ago. If he'd never triggered River, they could have all stayed safe. Granted, she would probably be at her Training House, and not on _Serenity_, but still. The deaths of Shepherd, Wash, all their friends and contacts. All of the agony could have been avoided if he had never put the trigger out where it could find River.

As if he knew what she was thinking, he turned his head and met her eyes. She let him see the anger, the naked rage that had her thinking something that would have never occurred to her when she first came aboard _Serenity, _all those years ago. She regretted not walking around with a gun on her hip like Mal and Jayne and Zoe. If she did, she'd probably have it out and aimed at his head. She was a fair shot after all.

His lips twitched and he straightened slightly, as if opening his chest for the kill shot, before turning back to the rest of the crew. "Unfortunately," he said, just loud enough to cut over the general din. "The latest trigger of River's psyche was not an accident."

That got everyone's attention, and Mal left off shaking a fist in Jayne's face so he could face the Operative. "What do you mean, not an accident? How could _any _of this _shu ma nyaow_ be an accident?

Paul smiled faintly, and shrugged. "You make a fair point Captain. However, that is not what I meant. Putting a trigger out into the signals traffic requires a great deal of effort, money, and careful timing. None of the commercial networks may be aware that they are being used for the endeavor, and to slip the appropriate…commercial into the lineup means that palms must be greased, and marketing deals be made. All of the products in the commercials are, after all, real."

"Thought you were Alliance. Parliament's man. Can't they just take over like they do everythin' else?" Jayne looked confused, and truth to tell, Inara sympathized. She didn't see how so much work could be required for something that caused so much trouble so easily.

"I was," Paul turned to look out at the sky peeking through the open cargo bay doors. It was full of ships, coming and going. This was the busiest port on the planet after all. "But the Academy was not a purely Alliance endeavor. Blue Sun ran it, funded it. Held the logs and the commercials they created as the vehicles of the triggers. A private contractor, in the simplest sense. I was called in when their methods of recovering River failed. Specifically _because_ she'd been exposed to members of Parliament." He looked back down at them. "They failed to clean up their own mess, and it was deemed needful that someone with a broader…spectrum of resources be the one to track her down."

She could see where this was going. Mal had explained some of it to her after the repairs on _Serenity _had been completed. This man, this…whatever he was trying to be now, had said he'd tell the Alliance that River and her brother were no longer a threat. And maybe he had. Their mistake had been in believing that just because the government may no longer be looking for the girl, that private parties weren't just as interested in her. Private parties like the one that had ripped her mind apart in the first place. A look at the set of Mal's jaw and the hardness in Zoe's eyes told her that whatever _she_ might have thought was finished after the broadwave, they'd obviously known better.

Jayne was cursing. "Told you Mal. Told you people don't put out the bounties they did on her or Simon and then just give up."

"I know you told me," Mal snapped, and spun on his heel to glare at the gun hand. "An' she knew it too. But what was I supposed to do? After all we went through, toss them off the boat?"

"No!" Kaylee reached for his arm. "No, Cap'n!"

"Relax_ bao bei_," Simon put an arm around the younger woman's shoulders. "He didn't, we're still here after all."

She looked mulish, but relented, and bent to pick up Sierra, who was looking more and more frightened by the hard voices of the adults around her. The little girl clung to the mechanic, and Kaylee petted the dark hair and made shhhhing noises as she glared at her Captain.

"So this whole time," Inara bit out, angry as could be. "This whole time Mal, they've still had bounties out and you never told us?" It hurt, beyond words that he hadn't confided in her. She was supposed to be his wife. His confidant. How could he have? Stupid, stubborn, arrogant man!

And he knew it too. The hard look in his eyes weakened slightly, and almost became an apology. "An' what would anyone have been able to do about it," he asked, but the question was for her. She fumed at him silently, and had the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. This wasn't just about them. This was the safety of his family, of her family. Did he think keeping them blind would have kept them safer? He opened his mouth and she took half a step forward, knowing what he was about to say. Whatever else he hid, she at least knew that much about him.

"I think we're straying from the point here," Paul said as he sidled into her path. Inara scowled at Mal around the man's shoulder, and promised with her eyes that he was going to pay for having hidden the danger they were all in. No wonder he hadn't been more surprised at the mercs that had taken River. It had only been a matter of time after all. He'd been angrier at the threat to Kaylee and Sierra, and about the bombs hidden all over his ship. He must have thought River would make short work of her captors. After all, she'd probably known they were coming.

"And what would that be," Simon snapped. "The fact that River and Riddick are beating each other to a pulp and getting nowhere? Or the fact that Blue Sun knows she's still free and they're probably tracking her trail from Persephone." He was nose to nose with the Operative now. "Maybe that's why this is taking so long. Maybe you're not really helping her at all? Maybe you're keeping us all here for them to recapture! Have you even been _looking _for Riddick's sister? Or is it all a farce?"

Trust Simon. Inara thought, and shook her head. Making a lot of valid points, but letting his temper get the better of him. For her part, she didn't believe either Operative was still working with Blue Sun. Or the Alliance for that matter. If they were, she needed to take a serious look at her ability to read people, and maybe go back and question a few of her teachers on the matter. Their lessons had very rarely failed her after all.

Paul merely blinked, ignoring the hisses and grumbles of the crew around him. "I assure you Doctor Frye; I am doing everything in my current power to find the location of Mr. Riddick's sister. As for your own sister…" He shrugged again. "There are a number of triggers. You know that as well as I. Having failed to make any progress with the ones that the Academy managed to complete, it is perhaps more hopeful that the incomplete ones will not have such a hold on her mind." He sighed and looked over at Mal, who was back to being furious and frustrated. "And seeing as they were never designed for the way Riddick's mind works, it is possible that he will be better able to help her break free."

That niggling feeling was back, and Inara frowned as she switched from paying attention to Paul to watching her husband and Simon instead. Something about their faces, the way they held themselves, said that there was much more to this story than just the next stage of trials. A shift in the press of the crew around her and she met first Zoe, then Jayne's eyes. They knew too. After all these years living together on this ship, there was no way they couldn't not.

It was Zoe who spoke first, and she was looking right at Mal, the man she'd known far longer than any of the others had. "It wasn't just about the triggers, was it Sir? What did you mean Doc, 'Don't know how he knew what you were thinking'?"

Simon froze. Mal's entire body went taught. Sierra, who had been starting to reach for her mother, cringed and went back to nearly strangling Kaylee instead. Inara would have gone to help the younger woman, but she had a feeling she was about to slap her husband and maybe even the Doctor. From their body language and that initial comment that had set off the feeling that they were hiding something, she had a fair idea of what it must have been. Neither man made any secret of their opinions after all.

Silence reined for a moment as the two faced the other members of their family, all stony faced and waiting. Finally Simon sighed and let his shoulders slump. "I just, she's my sister. But he's got her doing things…things she would have never gone along with before. She's terrified of anything to do with the Academy, always has been."

As explanations went, it wasn't much. Weak in fact. Zoe seemed to get it, but Jayne and Kaylee just looked confused. Mal tried next, and she had to give him grudging credit for making the attempt. "That sort of love ain't right," he said, denial making his voice hard. "To do the things they do to each other. For her to let that_ h__uh choo-shang tza-jiao duh tzang-huo_ do the things to her that he does." He shook his head and glared out at the docks outside the bay doors before meeting his wife's eyes. "Shoulda never brought him on board."

Inara gaped. Not much, she was too well trained for that. But she felt her jaw go slack and her eyes widen. Beside her she could feel Zoe rocking back on her heels, and Kaylee was curling further into Simon's side. Scrabbling for some semblance of cognitive thought, the Companion braced herself against the mule behind her and managed to gasp "And you _said_ that? To him? To them?"

"What the hell do you take me for woman? Stupid?"

"Yes."

That got their attention, and they all turned to Paul, who'd stood forgotten on the sidelines. He was stern faced, arms crossed over his chest and chin down. "Think Captain Reynolds. River is an empath. A _psychic_. And bonded to Mr. Riddick in a way none of us truly understand. I doubt _they_ even understand how it works. But they have been clinging to each other for weeks now. Rarely do you see the one without the other. Does it not follow that they are as wrapped up in each other's minds as they are their bodies? Did it not occur to you that if River is picking up your thoughts, they are being passed on to the man as well?"

Simon rocked back on his heels. Inara clutched at the nearest steady body, which turned out to be Jayne. Zoe's head had come up and there was alarm in her eyes. Kaylee let out a soft. "Oh!"

So many pieces had just fallen into place. So many things she'd forgotten in the turmoil of surrounding events and the distance of time. It made sense. Horrible sense. No wonder the man, the Furyan, the animal had thrown them out. He had, in the time he'd been on the boat, been treated as interloper, alien, unwelcome in almost every sense of the word. This man, who'd rescued their sister, their daughter. However backhanded the methods may have been, he'd been responsible for bringing her back to them. He'd held her while she raged in lunacy and even saved the lives of the crew; both from her and outsiders. And all they'd repaid him with was mistrust, doubt, anger and the attitude that River would have been better off without him. Especially from Mal and Simon.

She was only more shocked that he'd let them out of Mik-lat with their lives. Given the temper he'd displayed when _not_ being tortured by the triggers, she could only imagine what must have been like after all the stress they'd been under these past few weeks.

"_Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiouh doh sai-jin wuh duh pee-goo,_"Jayne barked and steadied her as she stumbled against him again. "Mal you gorram idiot! And you too Doc. Don't neither of you have _eyes_?"

That brought them all up short, and they turned as one to stare at the last man in the 'Verse they could have expected to say that. Was this Jayne? The same man who knew every whore on every planet they frequented? The man who loved his guns better than people? Was this the man who'd argued so forcefully against keeping River on board in the first place? The man she knew for a _fact_ had tried to sell the girl back to those who'd damaged her?

Strong hands were setting her on her feet, and Inara realized that in the six years she'd been on board with the man, he'd never once set a hand on her intentionally. For any reason. He was surprisingly gentle about it, and even made sure she'd stay upright before turning back to the Captain and Simon. "Gorram it Mal," he snapped at the two stunned men in front of him. "Don't care what you think a' the man. He's all kinds of dangerous. But you don't go poking a wounded wolf. 'Specially not one what thinks it has to protect something. Best way I know to git yourself kilt in a hurry."

He leaned in; face right in his Captain's and completely oblivious to the fact that Mal was going from shocked to angry in record time. "What'd he tell ya Mal? What'd he say when he caught on you thought he's doing all this to a girl we all know is too mule headed to be forced inta _anythin'_? What'd he say when you thought she's twisted up inside 'cause of him? That he'd made her think an' do things we all _know_ gorram well she wouldn't a never done afore she vanished?"

Something about that statement was off, but she couldn't pin it down. She was too busy trying to reconcile this Jayne with the man she'd known. To catch her husband's eye and try to keep him from pulling his gun and ending the man right there. Sierra was crying softly, and Kaylee was trying to soothe her, but she didn't have her attention on the little girl. She, like everyone else, was riveted by the display in front of them.

Simon spoke then, shifting from foot to foot and sounding more uncertain than angry. "He said it wasn't about love. That love didn't even enter into the picture." Those blue eyes, so capable of fury and determination enough to go up against the Alliance alone, for the sake of a sister he'd lost; those eyes were full of confusion now. "He said it was about being equal. Matched. That we don't _see_ her." He looked down at his hands, shaking in the fists he'd formed, and opened them to their fullest extent. She wondered what he was looking at, what he'd done with those hands to perform the miracle that was freeing his sister.

And for what? A life on the run? Far from anything familiar? She knew that it had been years before he felt like _Serenity_ was home. That it had taken Miranda and the broadwave and Kaylee to make him start to feel like he had a place in the 'Verse again. And always with his sister, the genius girl who'd gone to the Academy and came out broken. No longer the girl who'd left home for a higher level of learning, full of hopes and dreams.

No. Now she was a girl with voices in her head, possessed of a fractured psych that no amount of medicine could fix. Even after Miranda, she'd been tortured. And none of them had listened. They'd chosen instead to believe that all she needed was more meds, an adjusting of the dosages. None of them had seen the pain she was really in.

Seen.

Oh _go se._

Simon still didn't get it. Nor did Kaylee or Mal. But Jayne obviously did, because every line in his body, tight and filled with rage as he was, relaxed. He sat back on his heels, crossed his arms, and glared at Mal. On his other side, Zoe's eyes had gone round. Whether she understood the implications or not Inara couldn't tell. The woman had always been a bit of closed book when it came to how she saw other people.

There was that word again. Saw. Seeing. Seen.

No wonder River had latched on to Riddick so hard. No wonder he had done the same in return. No expectations. They'd met each other without anyone to tell them what they should think of the person in front of them. Entirely independent of outside input, they'd formed their own opinions, their own feelings. Maybe the girl had been crazy when he found her. They might never know.

But whatever state she, or even he, might have been in; they must have recognized something in each other. Kindred spirits. Lost souls. Whatever label she wanted to put on it, she knew it would be inadequate. She had no doubt the Riddick had done a great many horrible things in his life. Things he'd hinted and danced around in conversation. But there was a core to the man, an uncompromising center that told the Companion that Jayne was right. Once Riddick picked something to protect, he'd do so with his life if need be.

And he'd picked River.

A girl so shattered that she couldn't tell up from center when she'd first woken from that cryo box. A girl who spoke in riddles and babbled about things no one should be able to know. Even after they'd found out what had been done to her brain; even after they came to terms with the fact that she could read minds and fire a gun blind, they'd persisted in treating her like a crazy child when they didn't understand the motives behind her actions.

And when she'd led them to Miranda, then gone a different sort of insane afterwards…how much had she been hiding from them? Or had she not been hiding, they just hadn't noticed? So wrapped up in their previous assessments of her they didn't see that she'd changed. Even once she'd returned to them that first time, just standing in the cargo bay when they came back from a supply run. They'd still walked softly around her, and it had been months before she'd been trusted enough to go anywhere without an escort.

What must that have been like, living like that?

What must it have been like, to meet someone who looked at her with fresh eyes and just _accepted_ the lunacy and the mutterings and the odd habits as a matter of course? What must it have been like for Riddick, who made no bones about the fact that he'd been hunted as a murderer, to have someone see inside his mind and not condemn him for his past actions?

No wonder he'd said it wasn't about love.

No wonder he'd snapped.

Mal was still working it out in his head, she could see from the way his eyes were flickering. She shook her head. This wasn't going to be solved right now. Or even in the next few days. If he got it figured before River and Riddick were done with this madman's gambit she'd be surprised. His perceptual blind spot was immense when it came to his adopted daughter and the man she'd decided to share her life with.

But she herself, she was making a quiet resolution. She'd had doubts since Riddick had come aboard, what with some of the more spectacular antics he'd engaged in. No more. Somehow, someway, she'd manage to let the man know that he had at least one ally among the crew. Glancing to the side, she amended the mental statement. Two. Maybe that was why she and Jayne were being summoned up to the complex. Was it the man? Or the girl who'd asked for them?

Did it matter?

Jayne was still glaring at Mal, shoulders hunched like he was waiting for the Captain to explode and lose his temper all over again. Carefully as she could she laid a hand on the man's shoulder, and he flinched when he looked over at her. Right. She'd never touched him on purpose either. "We should get packed," she said quietly. "The window closes soon."

His jaw worked, hard blue eyes softened slightly, and he nodded before stepping out of her way. The rest of the crew, Paul included, watched them silently as the two mounted the stairs and headed for their separate quarters. She only prayed that Mal or Simon wouldn't kill the Operative while they were gone. It would be the last thing they needed.

He stopped her once they reached the corridor between the bridge and the galley. "Gotta find time ta talk ta him Inara." He ducked his head, and wouldn't meet her eyes. "Man won't listen ta me. Never would. An' Zo," he shrugged. "She ain't none too level headed anytime the Operatives are around. Know she'll follow his lead anyways."

Inara stared, chewing her lip as she brought her thoughts in line. "You know that sometimes he stonewalls me just because he can Jayne. I can try but…It might be something he has to realize for himself."

The man snorted and moved over to the hatch down into his bunk. "An' when's he gonna do that? He'll die afore he opens his eyes. Too set on see'n the girl as the crazy loon what popped outta that box, or the weapon what went crazy an' tore up a bar. Too mule headed ta see Riddick is killin' hisself for her. All he sees are the bruises and someone handy ta blame. Always has."

"Jayne," she reached a hand towards him just as he kicked open the hatch. "How is it that

you-?"

He rolled his eyes, "That I see it? Hell woman, think they're the only ones get first impressions held against 'm? Think Riddick's the only one who's lost someone like he has? There's a look about a man, when he's lost a person and not a war. They ever get the guts to let someone else in, they're gonna cling till they die." And with that he dropped out of sight, leaving the Companion in stunned silence behind him.

Just how big of a set of fools were they ? How blind could they be?

**Author's Note**: Not much to say here. Think the chapter speaks for itself. Don't expect any great epiphanies on Mal or Simon's part just yet. Got a ways to go first. And no, we're not going to explore much of Jayne's past. I'm having more fun teasing. Same with whatever Simon did to get River out. What's more interesting? The known and detailed? Or the unknown and vague?

Anyhoo, thanks all for reading, faving, watching, REVIEWING, etc. Love you all!

As always, they AREN'T mine. Oh how I wish…

Shenandoah76209: Glad you liked it! But in actuality, he didn't JUST figure it out. He's known for a long time, just been trying to give River a chance to get it through their skulls that he and she are a breed apart when it comes to relationships. But his temper's finally snapped, and Mal and Simon are paying the price. Think it'll take them a while though, to come to terms with what he told them. As for the triggers…wait and see. Just wait and see. But I don't think that the high levels of insta-heal meds that the Riddick videos games had are immediately available to the Operatives. From what I saw, they have great diagnostic tools, but still use some very modern day (for us) methods of medicine in the series.

Guineverekay: Hehehe. Always glad to hear from you. I actually tend to wait till you review, since you're usually the last one I get. I don't know. I doubt they're going to try and go back to Mik-lat any time soon and test Riddick's promise. I wish I could write them a little more understanding. I was trying for it last chapter. It just…didn't work .

Rachet:! I think Inara would be Riddick's choice and Jayne would be River's. Better to have them both ;) And the juices are starting to flow again. WHoo!

: Yay! You're back! So happy the chapter worked for you, and the conversation especially. Looking forward to hearing from you again!

Translations:  
_gou tsao-_Dog humping

_shu ma nyaow_-Stinking horse piss

_bao bei- _Darling/treasured one

_huh choo-shang tza-jiao duh tzang-huo_-Animal-fucking bastard.

_Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiouh doh sai-jin wuh duh pee-go-_Everything in space is stuffed up my ass.

_go se-_shit


	49. Chapter 49

Ch. 49

_Where is your home restless wind_

_Is it there, is it here_

_Do you search for a place to belong_

_Search in vain, search in fear_

_Or is your spirit everywhere_

_Is your voice every tree_

_Your soul of the air_

_If there's no home is there no death_

_Is there no death _

"Arlington" Wailin' Jennys

Riddick almost protested when Inara appeared at their door and asked for River. He nearly didn't let her in, but before he could stop her she'd already inched past him and was headed for the bed where the girl lay sleeping. The lights were down to dim, but the woman didn't seem to care. She perched on the edge of the mattress, staring down at the lump of the girl under the sheets, and sighed as she brushed a stray bit of hair out of the sleeping face. There was a fresh bruise along the cheekbone, and her lip was split. Butterfly bandages were holding a cut over her eyebrow closed, and he could see the wide bruises along the line of her neck where he'd nearly managed to strangle her before the code words kicked in. He didn't know if Inara could see all of it in the dim light, and frankly he didn't want to know. River had asked for her. He would have been happy to be left alone.

But the woman didn't indicate one way or another if she could tell the extent of the damage. She just stood, tucked the blankets a little tighter around the girl, and turned to look at him. It didn't take much. He'd been looming behind her, trying to keep her from touching the girl, wanting to tear her away from the bed. The animal was all set to pick her up and throw her out of the room. The man was waiting for her to lay into him the same way Simon and Mal had tried to. He was rumbling and he knew it. He'd also taken off his goggles, so he knew she could see him glaring at her. Her scent didn't change though. Incense and calm, sorrow and hints of gun oil. No lemons. No anger.

How interesting.

As if she knew what he was thinking, what he was trying to do by standing so close she could feel him breathing, she smiled and laid a hand on his arm. "How long has it been since the last try?"

He blinked, derailed by the question. "'Bout ten hours," he replied. "Give or take."

"Just woke up?"

He lifted one shoulder and moved over to the table. Someone had left food. The only time the servants entered their room anymore was while they were making one of the trials. They changed the sheets, gather up the laundry, most of which smelled strongly of vanilla and musk and sex, and left food for when they woke up. He wondered; was it Paul and Thomas' way of showing hope that they'd make it out alive each time? That they'd make it back to this room instead of finally killing each other?

"Come on." He spun, startled, and saw that Inara had grabbed his goggles from the dresser and was holding them out. "We should get you looked at. I gather you haven't been spending much time checking your own wounds over."

He just rumbled again, still trying to figure out the angle on this. Her heart rate was steady, and her lips were quirked in a half smile. Fucking women. He really needed to stop letting them lead him around by the nose.

Taking the goggles from her, he slipped them over his head and followed her out of the room, stopping in the door to look back at River. He almost couldn't do it. It was easier when she was awake and knew he was leaving, knew that he'd be back right away. Right now he didn't know how long this would take, and she was so deep asleep she hadn't even shifted in his head when he slipped out of bed to answer the door. It must not be night, or at least too late at night. Or else Inara would have waited longer to come and find him.

A hand on his arm again, cool and smooth against his skin. He looked down into the woman's huge dark eyes, which were lined with a minimum of kohl. No matter what life she led, she'd always be a Companion. If he hadn't seen her standing in a downpour holding a gun and all her makeup running off as thumbed the hammer and prepared to shoot him, he might have thought the mask was all there was. But she hadn't yelled at him so far. Hadn't called him names and blamed him yet. And nothing in her scent indicated that she was doing so in her head either. It was just a smile, inviting and calm, like she knew something he didn't.

He never had been able to contain his curiosity. One last look over his shoulder at the girl, a shift of the animal to wrap her even tighter in the curl of its body so she'd know he hadn't abandoned her, and he followed the Companion down the hall. She stopped in front of another door. It led to a meeting room of some sort. It wasn't the one they'd used when they first arrived. On entry it proved to hold a long oval table, some chairs, and Jayne.

He blinked in surprise, and was glad of the goggles. The other man was scowling as he rearranged plates and platters on the table. Steam and the smells of spiced meat were seeping from under the plastic covers and cloths draped over them. On the sideboard were more trays, these full of first aid supplies. A medium sized bag, dark and shiny, sat on one of the chairs. What the hell?  
"Paul says you two ain't eating nothin' like real food," Jayne grumbled as he started pulling the covers off the platters and setting them aside. "Ain't gonna heal up on bread and fruit."

"Sit," Inara gave him a push towards a chair as Jayne started loading a plate with strips of seasoned beef and a spoonful of what looked like some sort of grain salad. The woman went over to the sideboard and started gathering bandages and scissors and he didn't know what else. "Eat. You look like death warmed over. And those stitches need to come out."

He nearly bolted. Nearly pushed the chair back and shoved his way past the pair and out of the room. Had they gone mad? What the hell had gotten into them anyways? But his stomach was telling him he'd skipped food when he woke, and that it had been too long since the meal before that. And Jayne was right. He couldn't remember the last hot meal he'd had. Bread, fruit, cold cuts and vegetables had been all he'd eaten in he didn't know how long. The thought of real meat, hot meat, was enough to make him stay all by itself.

Scooping a few more slices of meat onto the plate, he pushed the chair sideways and dug in, stopping only long enough for a muttered "You sure you know what you're doing," in Inara's direction. She snorted, drug a chair over, and grabbed hold of his arm. Jayne stood close, handing her this or that as she asked for it, and he fed himself one handed as she cut the stitches down the side of his chest and pulled them out one by one. She was right. They were starting to grow over. How had he missed that?

::Paying too much attention to the girl and her body.:: River's voice was sleepy in his head, but she didn't sound worried. He got the impression of her untwining from sheets and rewrapping them around her. He tried to shove caution her way, but she was only half awake, and more fixated on finding him than listening to what he had to say anyways.

This was going to go great.

On the other hand, maybe it would get these two to crack and reveal a little more of what they were thinking. As odd a pair as he'd ever seen, he hadn't expected them _both_ to show up, much less to be working together. And not yelling at him or smelling of anger and accusation either. Something was up. It had to be.

Inara chuckled as she looked up into his face and started peeling the bandage from his shoulder. Where River had gotten a hold of that jagged piece of metal he had no idea, but she had, and it had torn a bloody gash right over the collarbone and down over his shoulder blade. Someone had gotten cleaned it out and covered it up; but the blood had seeped through the gauze, and it stuck and pulled as she worked the tape from his skin.

He growled, unable to help himself, and concentrated on _not_ swatting her across the room. "Just yank it," he muttered, and reached to do it himself.

That earned him a rap on the knuckles from the woman and a wry chuckle from Jayne. Before he knew it, she'd obeyed, and he was left with stinging smarting pain instead of the slow burn. He grunted, glared at Jayne, and went back to his food. River was about to find him, and he didn't think laughing and pointing at the other man's reaction was going to endear him to anyone. Better to have his mouth full so the girl wouldn't try to kill him, or Inara wouldn't decide to dig a thumb in the wound she'd just uncovered instead of rewrapping it.

Amusement rippled through his brain, and the girl shifted her mental image to match her physical. He felt himself go hard, and the only reason the other two didn't notice his sudden tension was because the door was sliding open. Jayne barked in surprise and scrambled backwards. Inara smelled of humor, and he could hear the breath catch in her throat as she tried not to laugh at the other man. River scowled at them all indiscriminately, and then zeroed in on him. Her grip on his mind tightened, and the weapon rose out of the stream with hiss of water over hot metal. Vanilla bloomed in the air, and wet earth too. The combination was enough to break him out of his mental fugue state and make him sit up a little straighter.

Clutching the sheet just a bit tighter, the girl stepped around Inara and up behind him. He flinched as she ran a careful finger down along the gash in his shoulder, and then over the fine line of whitened skin on his chest where the Companion had just pulled the stitches. She was exhaling bitter herbs and more wet earth, and he reached up to catch her hand before she could go on to examining any of the rest of his injuries. He was trying to pin the girl down in her mind, to find the cause of her sudden change of mood from amused to saddened, but she was dodging him too well.

Jayne had turned a darker shade of embarrassed and was loading another plate with food. He plunked it down on the table, yanked out a chair behind River, and nearly tripped over the trailing sheet as he bolted from the room. Riddick didn't pay him much attention, and it wasn't until cool hands started dabbing something over the tear in the skin on his shoulder that he was able to look away from River's face. Inara's eyes lifted to meet his, and he was stunned to see the sympathy there. Of all the reactions he'd been expecting, that had not made the list. What did she know that he didn't?

And then it hit him. The light. Brightness of the room. With the exception of when they headed down to the training room, they'd been living in near darkness for the last four weeks. And he'd always been wearing a shirt, not even one of his usual tanks. He had, whether he knew it or not, been covering the evidence of their own private apocalypse. He'd seen it all over the girl. He couldn't not. But they never turned the light on full in their rooms, and any time spent with any bit of their clothes off generally meant the rest weren't far behind and he was about to bury himself in her. Or she was about to sink down over him and they were both going to lose their minds. He didn't know the last time she'd had a good look at him in full light.

The animal managed to get the girl pinned down long enough to curl up around her, and the man pulled them all back against the lip of the well in her mind. It was too much work to drag her to the tree. Besides, he figured she needed the calm of the water more than the warmth of the fire at this point. Gently as he could, he pushed Inara away and drew the girl around where she could face him. Her eyes were huge and shimmering with the tears that were pooling up in them, and her mind was one big roil of anger, hurt, and shame.

He glared at her, yanked, and had her in his lap before she could fight him. ::Know I look like shit,:: he grumbled as he moved her around to face him. The sheet was coming loose, and it rode up over her thighs in great waves of cloth. He didn't give a damn. Inara knew what went on between them. She couldn't not. And he knew she'd have enough tact to keep her mouth shut. After all, she still smelled of calm and comfort, not outrage and indignation like Mal and Simon had.

River bit her lip and stared down at him, and he ran his hands up her arms as carefully as he could. There was a cut on her palm weeping blood through a bandage, and she looked like a piece of overripe fruit with all the bruises that covered her. Even the ones he'd made on purpose, with his mouth and teeth. He hated the sight of them in full light, of all the damage, and in that moment wanted nothing more than to see her as he'd first found her. Skin luminescent perfection and unhurt by their combined lunacy.

She snorted in his head, and traced her fingers over his head, following the path of the goggles' strap, ignoring the sheet as it fell around her waist. At least it covered the erection filling his pants.::Stupid,:: she muttered. :: She'd been shot. You hit her in the head. She tried to brain you with a wrench and you drug her off the engine. And that was _before_ she danced her feet raw and got shot again with another tranq bullet.::

He wanted to argue, to tell her that he remembered all that. That he knew he'd inflicted the latest set of bruises too. That what the animal and the man were most torn up over was the fact that he didn't even _remember_ how she'd gotten half of them. Only that it was his fault. But he knew she'd just steamroll over that line of thought with the knowledge that he looked just as bad, and all that kept him mobile on some days was high speed with which he healed up. It was even harder to think about when looked at in light of the fact that sometimes she'd end up stuck in bed for days while waiting for the latest sprain or dislocated limb to become useable again.

Inara was still moving around them, working on the injury to his shoulder where it wrapped around to his back. Her heart rate hadn't changed, and for all the awareness she was giving of their discussion, she may as well have not even been in the room. River didn't seem to notice the other woman, taking his face between her palms and leaning down to touch her forehead to his. "Shhhh," she whispered. "We will find a way. And then you can go back to giving her only bruises and bite marks that you _mean_ to have shown. Can go back to touching for touching's sake, and not the last windward anchor."

He inhaled. Vanilla over apples and rain, all wrapped up with cool water. How could she be so certain? Their latest try had been just as much of a disaster as the others, and the animal was starting to depend on the man for its survival, a thing that never ended well for anyone. His instincts were always what had kept him alive, and while his intellect had provided guidance, he'd never been able to manage very well as the man alone. Even stuffed down in the hole, enough of the animal had seeped out during his stint as Lord Marshal to keep him in one piece, to keep him alive during the endless fights and arguments with the Commanders and Purifiers.

Her lips quirked in a sad smile, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead. ::She is certain because the alternative is despair. And she is not willing to give up. Not while there is breath in her body.::

"Words," he growled, not realizing he was saying it. Alarm and surprise from Inara, and she froze behind him. In his lap River giggled, and he couldn't not look at her breasts as they bobbed with the movement of her ribcage. She gave him a light whack over the head, and he managed to drag his eyes up to meet hers. She was grinning outright now, lilacs and vanilla seeping from her pores. The girl in his head tweaked the ears of the animal, and the weapon jabbed the man in the ribs. They both lifted their lips in a snarled reply. She was the one sitting on him, naked as the day she was born for the entire world to see.

But she made a moue of mock sadness before leaning forward to rest her forehead on his shoulder and slip her arms around his sides. "Have to cling to hope," she said. "No other choice. She will keep trying, so long as she breathes."

Pulling the edge of the sheet from where it was pooled around her thighs, he drug it up over her shoulders, inhaling the vanilla, apples and rain, spiced musk and leftover scent of their combined body fluids that it had become permeated with. He didn't have an answer for her. None besides walking back into that room and trying again. She shifted against him, like a child curling up for comfort, and he rumbled in reply. She was right. It was despair or hope, and he'd never been one to give up.

Incense, faint traces of gun oil and leather, and concern weaved their way together as the combination worked its way to his brain. He'd forgotten about Inara, and looked over in surprise to see her crouched by the chair, elegant dress falling in ripples and waves around her. Her eyes were soft, her hands gentle as she reached up to lay her fingers on River's leg. "We owe you an apology. _Xī__tǎn_. For so many, many things."

He snorted and scowled at her. "I ain't the one been hurt and abandoned woman."

Fire flashed in her eyes, and the glare she gave him could have peeled paint. "Nevertheless you big _hwoon dahn_, I give it. For my sake at least, for the treatment you've received since you joined us. The debt we owe you for bringing her back to us, for taking care of her as you do." She shook her head and stood. "And yet we repaid you only with scorn."

River was quivering against him, and her mind had gone to sift through the Companion's. He wanted to drag her back, ask her what was going on under all that makeup and perfect hair. The animal snorted. It knew. She was serious. Telling the truth as she saw it. The man just couldn't remember the last time someone had apologized to him and meant it.

::Shazza,:: River's voice was quiet. She was still over by the stream, more than half her attention on Inara. He blinked. The girl was right. How many years ago had that been?

Still.

"And River," he asked. "Don't give a fuck what your crew thinks of me. But what about her family? They ever gonna treat her like a person?"

She looked at him like she could see right through him, past the bullshit and bluster, but there was sadness in the air too. Regret even. Long fingers tipped in lacquered nails stroked the dark mass of hair spilling over River's shoulders. It was a rat's nest, but neither seemed to care.

"I was speaking to both of you," Inara said, voice wry. "_Xī__tǎn_ is an idiom. Roughly translated, it means I walk on my knees, bare my breast. Open myself up to attack if you will." She looked back down at River, still with her head buried in his shoulder. "I can't speak for the rest of the crew. They will have to come to their own realizations. Although," she glanced over her shoulder, puzzlement and sorrow becoming stronger in the air. "I don't think you'll ever have any trouble with Jayne." Shaking her head, she turned back to meet his eyes through the goggles. "I however, know that there's nothing we'll ever be able to do to make up for the way we've treated you both."

"Don't talk to me," he growled, still off balance and not liking it. "Talk to her."

River snorted and the girl gave the animal a look as she pulled herself from Inara's mind and returned to the tree. Inara's lips twitched and she passed her hand over the girl's hair again. "I would, if she'd stop going through my thoughts and actually look at me."

A giggle burbled out of River and set his skin under her mouth to gooseflesh. His arms tightened around her involuntarily, and he looked from the girl in his lap to the woman standing over them and tried to figure out which one had played him. River had found something in the Companion's head, something that had eased her mind in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. Or had it been the words? She always put more stock in those anyways.

::You'll find out soon,:: she murmured as she traced patterns over his ribs with light fingers. ::Listen to her now please.::

As if on cue, the amusement in Inara's face and scent deepened, and she gave him a full smile. "Now however, I have a few words I'd like to say to my _mei mei_, alone if you please." If she noticed the outrage on his face and body at her use of the possessive, she gave no sign. Instead, she laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled down at him. "I promise I'll take care of her."

He wanted to protest. To pick River up and take her back to their room before the rest of their day could turn out as surreal as the start had. Even with Thomas supervising repairs in the training room, they could find things to do. Lots of things to do.

But River was already squirming out of his grasp, and the lilacs and silk she was giving off were hard to deny, especially since it had been so long since the last time he'd smelled those on her. These two had something planned, and she was looking forward to it. He had a feeling he was about to get the short end of the stick in whatever was going on, and the peal of laughter that rang through his head didn't help the feeling any. Grumbling, he shoved her the rest of the way off his legs and let Inara lurch to catch her as he stood. River was giggling out loud now, and blocking all his probes as to what was going on. Fine then. They wanted to be women together; he'd find a way to keep occupied. Doing what he had no idea yet. A over a month now he'd been joined at the hip with this girl, and he wasn't sure he remembered how to walk through a day without her next to him.

Wordless reassurance flowed through the bond, and the girl worked her hands into the fur at the back of the animal's neck and kneaded as the weapon twined herself around the man. ::Stupid,: she muttered. ::Never alone. She is always with you.::

He didn't know if he should be disturbed or happy at how the idea settled him. He didn't get a chance to figure it out. Inara had helped the girl find her feet and then followed him to the door. A touch at his arm made him turn, and he glared down at her. He could see River behind her, having taken his chair and started eating off the plate before her. Then he realized that Inara was holding his own plate, forgotten once River had shown up. He took it from her, but she didn't turn and walk away.

"What do you want woman," he grumbled.

She raised an eyebrow, and her lips quirked. "Ah. Charm. You have it by the shipload don't you Riddick?"

"When I feel like it."

She shook her head and stepped closer. Before he knew it, he'd been maneuvered out of the room and she'd shut the door behind her. River was laughing in his head and the man and animal both blinked in surprise. How the fuck had she managed that?

"I was being serious," the woman said, and he got the feeling she knew just how off balance she'd thrown him. "We _all_ owe you_ xi__tǎn_. And so much more. Both of you." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to growl at her. "And yes, River maybe more than you. But," she placed her palm on his chest, and he tried not to rear back and swat at her. Only River touched him voluntarily. Only River ever got in his space like she belonged there. But there was nothing like an attack or anger in the woman's body language. And her scent bore it out. She was concerned, honest. And not judging him.

"They told us what you said, about seeing her."

"Did they?" Somehow he doubted they'd volunteered the information. Neither man was the type to want to showcase their humiliations.

Inara shook her head, like she knew what he was thinking. "Suffice to say, we got the gist." Dark eyes met his, and all the humor had gone from her face. "You were right. You a_re_ right. None of us has truly _looked_ at River and seen her as she is; who she's become. What she must have felt, what she must have thought she needed to hide from us," she bit her lip and looked away, and he could smell the sorrow again. "She was as much a prisoner on the ship as she was in the Academy."

The animal nudged at the man, and he only resisted for a moment before relenting. There was no point in being angry with her anyways. "You people were so afraid of her. All of you. Even when you had a use for what she could do. Any idea what it's like, going through life with people looking at you like you'll turn into a monster any second?"

Me," he shrugged. "Most days I kind of like it. But she wasn't born for it. Wasn't made for it." He crowded her back towards the door, and was almost proud that she didn't start reeking of lemons like he'd half expected her to. "She wants her family to love her. Accept her as she is. Don't give fuck how you people look at me, so long as you stop judging her for being herself." There was a desk nearby, one of the many set along the halls near the doors. The servants used them mainly, when they resupplied rooms and shuffled stuff around. He set his plate down and then braced his hands against the wall, bracketing the woman and keeping her in place. He could feel the heat of her body, and a few months ago he might even have taken advantage of the knee jerk reaction her pheromones were giving off. Might have been interested.

Women. What was it about them and getting penned in or having him tied down that got their blood up? It was even odds really, which reaction he got from which woman. But there was only one body he wanted under him, or crawling all over him now; and it wasn't this one. And this one had promised herself to another anyways. A pigheaded stubborn mule of a man who, when it came to his adopted daughter, couldn't see past the end of his nose. He must have some redeeming qualities for a woman like Inara to have fallen for him. But they obviously weren't much on display when he, Riddick, was around.

Amusement was pushing its way into his brain, and he knew River was watching through his eyes. He gave her a mental shove, and turned his attention back to Inara. Sooner he got this over with, sooner she could go back to talking to River, and the sooner he could get the girl back in their room and their bed. Or the shower. Or hell, even the floor. He really didn't care. Maybe he'd drag her out to that balcony he'd found the first night here. Point was, he'd been away from her less than two minutes and already wanted to crawl out of his skin and tear something apart in frustration.

"So. You tell that husband of yours," he growled, yanking his mind back to the present. "Tell her brother. She just about killed herself, terrified of coming back. So afraid of what you people'd think of her that she chewed her hand to pieces." He heaved a breath, and tried to find the words. "Told Zoe. Promised I'd get my pound of flesh from the people who put that kind of fear in her. Don't know why the fuck is it, but she loves you people. Only reason I ain't lost my shit yet." He stepped back and crossed his arms. The man was protesting all this talk, wanting to just get the fuck out of there. The animal shoved him down, making it clear that he had to make this point, and she was the best person to have listening. Zoe had heard the threat, Mal and Simon wouldn't listen to Jayne, and Kaylee was too hopeful and innocent to understand what he really meant.

Inara was the best choice. The best person to send to speak for them, for the girl, and try and get something through her husband's thick skull. She'd stood for them already, several times in fact. And he had to believe that somehow, some way, they'd make it through the trials. Get themselves free of the last of the chains in their mind. When that happened, they'd be right back where they started all those weeks ago. Fresh on a boat full of people wanting to shove him out an airlock. And all the progress that had been made on both sides, all the time he'd spent _not_ just gutting them and taking River somewhere far away would all be for nothing if he couldn't keep himself from losing his temper every time Simon or Mal looked at him sideways. It would be for less than nothing if River went right back to being the cherished freak, feared most of the time, valued only when they needed her particular brand of crazy.

So he stood there and scowled down at the woman and tried not to imagine taking the next window available in the satellite surveillance of the area and going down to _Serenity_ so he could use his ulaks to make his opinion of her Captain's stupidity very clear. Animal and man liked that idea. They liked it a lot. But the man knew it wouldn't do any good in the long run, so the animal had come up with this solution instead.

Talk. Fucking talk.

The Companion was staring up at him. Nothing in her scent told him anything her body language didn't. Anger yes. Frustration and a bit of fear. Concern in her eyes and a frown on her lips. He waited, feeling River as she twisted around him in his mind and peered through his eyes. It was enough to keep him steady. To keep him level headed as he watched the woman's pulse in her neck as it rose, then slowed, and then finally leveled out.

Finally she heaved a sigh and pushed herself away from the wall. Careful fingers smoothed invisible wrinkles from her dress as she regarded him with calculation in her gaze. "Believe me Riddick, when I say that Malcolm Reynolds is going to be getting an _earful_ the next chance I get." Her lips thinned and she turned to look at the door behind her. "For a man as good as he is at seeing his way out of scrapes, he is _ta ma de_ blind when it comes to his own family."

And with that she turned on her heel, opened the door, and slipped through. He heard her though, from the other side, and had to chuckle when she told him. "And stay out of River's head till she comes for you. Surprises don't work if you know what they are."

A faint titter from River drifted through the door, and the girl laid a kiss on the animal's head before sliding away from its claws and back over to her side of the bond. The man had to sit on the animal, threaten it with the hole again, before it would stop trying to follow her. She was in no danger with Inara, and the silk and lilacs of her joy were enough of a repayment now for the discomfort of not having her in his head and around his body. She'd find him soon enough after all.

**Author's Note:** Well, at least he's got one person listening to him in all this. Here's hoping that Inara can get through to Mal. Maybe.

We'll just have to see.

Poor Jayne. I don't know if he's afraid of Riddick not liking that he could get an eyeful of River naked, or if he'd just plain spooked. Either way, don't know that he'd going to be putting his neck out in their vicinity for a while. At least, not unless he knows they're both wearing actual clothes.

As always, they aren't mine. But thanks so much for reading and reviewing and faving and following. Love you all!

Shenandoah76209: Haha! I'm walking this fine line with Jayne. He's still an undereducated merc with an overt love of guns and loose women. But there are reasons for that beyond him just being dumb (at least in my mind). I'm trying to keep him from being too smart and observant about EVERYTHING and instead keep him a little more savvy to Riddick's side of things in this whole mess. And yeah, that little blowup of his has been a long time coming. I'm still working on chapters. Finally got into the swing of things again. A change in work schedule threw my routine though, and now I'm down to a timeline that's less linear than things have been so far, so expect juggling. As far as medicine goes, well, it's TV after all. Miracles happen. But I assume that although the Operatives have access to a relatively higher level of tech than a core world, without a full staff they're a bit crippled diagnostics wise. Having Simon around has probably helped a bit. But Firefly sourced a lot of the overt medicine out of current practices (the Epinephrine, atropine, etc in Ariel.) They haven't visibly advanced techniques much that I can see.

Rachet: So do I! We might just have to wait and see about her though. Don't think she'll want to come up to the complex any time soon. Glad you liked it!

: Yay! I love Jayne. He's so much fun. I wish we'd gotten a bit more about him, but Joss did such a great job fleshing out the characters as much as he did in those few eps.

Guineverekay. Known and detailed? I hope that's good ;) Inara has become one of my favorites to write in this story. I meant to do more Mal, but he just was too hard headed and wouldn't let me know what he was thinking. Dang him. Glad you like Jayne too! I dithered about putting that last bit in with Inara. I never pegged him for opening up with anyone, much less HER, but it just seemed to work. Mal and Simon need a short walk off a long drop IMO. They are NOT cooperating with me in the least! Don't worry about reviewing. Just get to it when you get to it. I'm having issued getting things posted quickly anyways right now. I'm a horrible reviewer myself, so I know where you're coming from. As for Kaylee, (counts on fingers) I'd say she's roughly four months in. Mainly I'm trying to remember that she IS pregnant in the first place. I keep trying to write her in, and she keeps dodging me. Phooey

Nanikoi: Yay! A new face! So glad you found me! Reading this all at once? Ouy vey! That's a lot of words! Glad you like it so far. The mindscape kind of snuck up on me, and then I had to continue it. I'm trying to keep the characters IN character as much as possible, but everyone has their own take. That, and it's been about 5 years since Miranda. 5 years to grow and change and solidify and get used to each other. Things are bound to be a LITTLE different. I'm kind of struggling with some of the Chinese. It doesn't flow, except for a few phrases I use a lot. That other thing is that so much of it takes place with Riddick's POV, and he doesn't speak it at all. So when the crew uses a lot of it or River does, it throws things off. I'm trying not to drop much of the backstory in there without explaining it. Feel free to tell me if I go off the rails and leave things confusing though. I do truly plan to finish this, but I don't know that I can bring Vaako or the Necros in. Maybe a sequel?

Translations:  
_Xī tǎn__-_to walk on one's knees and bare one's breast (a gesture of deepest apology)

_hwoon dahn I _bastard

_mei mei- _sister

_ta ma de_- Mother fucker (mother fucking?)

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Lilac: mischief

Swamp water: horror


	50. Chapter 50

Ch. 50

_You're my back bone.  
You're my cornerstone.  
You're my crutch when my legs stop moving.  
You're my head start.  
You're my rugged heart.  
You're the pulse that I've always needed.  
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.  
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.  
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.  
Like a drum my heart never stops beating..._

"Gone, Gone, Gone" Phillip Phillips

Later he'd think back on that day and remember the conversation. He'd remember it and use it to anchor himself just a little deeper into sanity, just a little deeper into reality. The knowledge that the girl had family. Family that cared for her so deeply they'd walk through hell and back; pit themselves against a man who would happily kill them all. A family that, despite all their vocal protests, stood by her while she let that man beat her to a bloody pulp for weeks on end, just so the two of them could have some hope of freedom in their minds.

But that was for much later. In the short term, he only knew that they hit a turning point after he discovered what Inara's gift had been. He didn't even realize it at the time. Only after. After she sidled up to him in the training room, trigger active and eyes heavy lidded and something in him just screamed at how wrong it was. Lust was pulsing through his veins, and the man was telling him that soft words spoken in the right order would bring her under him, make her spill all her secrets. He didn't know where the idea had come from. It seemed all right at the time. After all, that was the objective. Get the secrets, find the weak spots. Use seduction and worm his way into her bed. A light touch this time, instead of pummeling the living daylights out of her.

After all, sometimes he needed to be subtle. He couldn't always leave a pile of bloody evidence behind.

But it was all wrong. It wasn't vanilla in his nose. It was jasmine and ylang ylang, and the smell crawled into his brain and settled like a nest of hornets. His instincts were screaming that no matter what the mission objective was, he wasn't going to get in good with this woman with sweet talk and drinks. Not that he had any on hand, but he would have tried them if he could.

There was a voice in his head though, telling him that he needed to keep his wits about him if he was going complete the mission. Instincts were all well and good when it came to a fight, and they might even help a little in a seduction. But he needed his brain at the forefront if he was going to make it through this mission without blowing his cover. For now his baser urges were just going to have to be satisfied with the thought of upcoming sex, over and done and get on with it; and let him take the reins for now.

Hips under his hands, fingers trailing up his arms. Bad bad bad. The buzzing was growing, making him want to claw his ears off and fumigate his brain. Fucking hornets.

Dark eyes looking up at him through long lashes as she murmured small pleasantries. He'd draped an arm over her shoulder and was responding in kind.

How could he do this? How was he aware? He was never aware. Aware of what? What was it he was supposed to be remembering? Was it this, so he could savor it later, after he'd fucked her and gone back to his superiors with his report? His latest lay and all the juicy bits of intel he'd gotten out of her? Or was it something else? Something that the buzzing in the back of his mind was trying to unearth, like a million jackhammers around the vault of his memories.

Blue. Dark to his eyes, but saturated and brilliant in his mind. Flashes of dim light off of tiny crystals that scattered across the expanse of it like snow, becoming less concentrated and more random as they worked their way over the breasts and down the stomach. Soft, supple under his hand. Quiet whimpers and muffled gasps. A cord in his teeth, and her small form beneath him, braced on her hands and knees and trying to writhe backwards into him as he held her away from his body. Soft curses in a language he didn't know as she melted under his hands and tried to keep up her token struggle.

What the hell?

He shook his head and smiled down at the woman under his arm. She was plastered to his side, an arm around his back and tracing patterns up his shoulder blade. Her words were off though, and something about them was sending up warning flags. Like she was trying to play the same game on him that he was on her. For a moment he considered aborting the mission, calling it a wash and getting the heck out of there before he was made. But his dick was hard as a rock now and he wasn't going to get a chance at a fine piece of ass like this for a long time if he didn't at least make an attempt. They'd lock him down and not let him out of Headquarters for weeks if he didn't come back with _something_. He could keep his tongue between his teeth, like a good boy. He just had to keep his wits about him.

That ass, grinding into his lap as he splayed a hand across her stomach and kept her from turning around and mounting him right then. Kept her from dragging his hand down to her clit and giving her relief from the slow torture he was putting her through. The other hand, fisted in her hair as he worked lips and teeth over those bare shoulders before going back to loosening the top laces. Getting ready to put her beneath him and work his way up her back and get that thing off her as slowly as he knew how. Someone had dusted her skin with something that shimmered. Something sweet. Something that went so well with the warm vanilla rising from her body that he might just give in and devour her whole soon.

No. Patience. She'd been threatening to find one of these for weeks, and he'd promised to make her beg first.

The animal purred at the memory, and for a moment he didn't smell jasmine. The ribs under his hands were right, but so wrong, and the shy half grin on her face was off by millimeters. Not much, but enough to throw his balance off. He blinked down at her and she made a moue with those pretty lips and asked if he was feeling alright. Feeling up to it after all. Unspoken on her face was the taunt that maybe he needed to take a moment and go find Daddy's Little Helper. He pressed the swollen length of his dick against her hip to prove that no; he was quite ready and very much willing. A throaty laugh filled the air, and she laid her cheek against his chest. That was more like it.

A roaring in his head made him stumble though, and he clutched at it, trying to figure out what was going on. Something was fighting its way through him, boiling out of some place deep inside. His instincts were screaming that things were horribly wrong. That this wasn't the way things were supposed to go. She was supposed to taunt him yes. But openly and not with implications. She never worried about him not being able to get it up. The lion analogy was old hat by now.

Lion analogy? What the fuck did lions have to do with anything? For that matter, what did any sort of animal have to do with getting information out of this woman?

Too bad he hadn't had that drink. Then he'd have an excuse for the lack of balance, the dizziness. He'd be able to pass it off as just one too many. As it was, she was asking him what was the matter and he was coming up dry for explanations. What the hell had gone wrong?

Nothing really. Nothing at all. The memories were bubbling up, pushing through the haze. At least he thought they were memories. He seemed to feature in them. And the woman, for some reason. How was that possible? She was a contact. A possible mole that he was not supposed to get information from, but compromise in such a way that she'd have to give him further intel on down the road. Which didn't make sense at all when he tried to match his mission objective with the image of her leaning over him, pushing him down and refusing to let him have his blades. No cheating, she'd said.

Cheating? How could you cheat on someone you'd just met?

He'd braced himself against the wall and was crouched with his head down, staring at the floor and gasping. His brain was on fire, his dick and balls making his pants far too uncomfortable, and all he wanted to do was get this over with. He was past the point where he could sweet talk anything out of the woman. But maybe, just maybe he could salvage something from the situation. If he fucked her brains out and made her want to come back for more. And more. And more again. Maybe he could get the pressure gone. Maybe he could make a case for going about this a little slower. Get them to let him come back. Build a relationship and truly compromise her. Flip her eventually.

He didn't know what she was doing, couldn't hear her over the roar of the flames in his head. Her hands were cool on his overheated skin, and he was sure that her voice was meant to be soothing. But it only fanned the fire. Dumped fuel all over it and turned it into an inferno. It was getting too big to contain. Soon it was going to have to start burning down the tunnel and out of the cave, just for lack of oxygen. Which would, of course, mean that the trickle of a stream would end up evaporating. Pity. It was kind of nice looking. Someone had put it there on purpose. A stream and a moat lined with spotted metal didn't just _appear_ in a cave. Who had done it? What did it mean?

The girl again, straddling his hips and taking his face in her hands. The skirt she was wearing matched the odd bodice for color. It was slit up the sides, so she could sit like this without it riding up. Tease. Thought she could torture him could she? Then he ran his hands up her sides and got the best surprise he'd known since…he didn't know when. Hard ribs sown into supple calf leather. It was all of a piece, and laces in the back confirmed the fact that she'd managed to make good on her threat.

Someone had helped her into it. Pulled and tugged till it fit her just so, pushed those small perfect breasts up to taunt him over the edge of the thing. Cinched in her waist just slightly, but not enough that she couldn't still move with all the grace of a cat. And it came down over her hips just enough that if he tried to bypass the whole thing and take her with it on, he ran a real risk of jamming himself up against the point. Little witch had gone through with it, and the Companion had helped her.

He laughed and buried his face in the valley between those breasts, and warm vanilla bloomed as she tried to simultaneously melt into him and squirm away. He yanked her closer, unwilling to leave his own promise unfulfilled. Then he scraped his teeth over the exposed skin peeking over the rhinestone covered leather and slipped his thumbs up under the lower edge of the thing to find her hip bones. Those sensitive hip bones, the only part of her that hadn't been damaged in some way by all the weeks of-

Of what? What the fucking hell was going on here?

The woman must have been another spy, or something. Nobody was so desperate to get fucked that they'd stick around a guy who'd gone from sweet talk to complete mental collapse in less than a minute flat. Not unless they really wanted something out of him. She had a hand on his shoulder, and the other on his cheek, and was deliberately rubbing her breasts against his arm as she tried to ask him what she could do to help.

Fucking cunt. _He_ didn't even know what was going on. How was he supposed to know how to snap out of it? Besides, it wasn't like he'd tell her anyways. She was still trying to worm information out of him; asking after a boss, a friend, anyone she could call.

He shoved her one way and stumbled back the other, trying to figure out why the fire in his ears sounded like an animal roar and why he felt like he needed claws. Blades. Something to cut the insanity from his brain.

The stream was starting to evaporate, and the fire looking for more fuel. It got it in the form of another flash of blue, dark to his vision but somehow overlaid in color anyways. She stood there, just inside the door, watching him watch her. He'd pulled apart the leather harness and was taking measurements for a new one when she finally got back. He'd heard her coming, felt anticipation and joy and lust in his mind as her fluttering heart came closer and closer. Mint, silk, and warm vanilla wove through the air; and he knew the musk and spice and warm fur were rising to form a heady blend, a drug unique to them.

She shimmered in the dim light, and even the bruises covering her bare skin looked like a certain sort of perfection. No attempt had been made to hide them, and she wore them like the battle badges and marks of ownership they were. His. Just as he was hers, marked so by the many, many teeth shaped scars and bruises she'd left all over him. They were _made _so by blood and bond; cemented together by a foundation formed by certainty of purpose.

Matched was what they were.

The bitch's fingers grazed the odd scar down his inner arm, and her face was uncertain. He knew what it looked like. Like a suicide attempt. Further proof that his mind was unstable. Unfit for missions. For delicate work like this. His skin burned where she touched it, and he snarled in a voice not his own as he yanked back and clutched his arm close. She didn't need to see. It was a distinguishing feature that could be used to identify him later, out in the field.

Identify him as what?

More roaring. Like his snarl, it was in an animal's voice. Some sort of big cat. The fire leapt, racing for the outer reaches of the cave, and the stream boiled in advance of the rushing heat. He was going to lose it. Tip over the edge and completely lose his shit and every time that happened they locked him back up in the room till he was malleable again. Like clay. Like surrender.

Fuck that.

He reached, and found spotted metal under his hands. Someone was gasping nearby, and he was surrounded by warmth. The fire? Or the body of the girl as he pounded into her, finally giving her what she'd been wanting ever since he first laid hands on her and discovered the new form of torture she'd come up with?

He didn't know. All he knew was that he was growling, there were bladed edges in the metal, and he was sinking in to it. Or pulling it over him. He was buried, encased. It was the foundation of his sanity and there wasn't a thing in the universe that could pry him out of it when he decided that this was where he wanted to be.

In her. Under her. Over her. Pinned by her small form and holding her down. Just plain with her, basking in her presence. Sitting in silence as they worked the Cortex, or navigation controls. Prodding for a reaction and having his head thumped in retaliation. Letting a tiny girl with a quarter of his mass get away with shit he'd murdered grown men for. Grace unchained, hair wild around her and her eyes glazed as she swam the river of people's minds. Batshit crazy some days, eerily calm and lucid others. She was his, and she was surrounding him, drowning him in the ocean of her soul. Even her family was a part of her, a packaged deal that he'd been slowly growing to understand.

She was River.

She was his match.

Skin under his, her desperate cries in his ears as she bucked and twisted under him and tried to impale herself backwards along his length as he slipped the final lace free and pulled the corset from her body. The skirt, stockings and garter belt were long gone, and she lost no time in hooking a foot around his leg, catching him in the hip with the other heel, and somehow flipping them both. He had less than a second to find his balance before her teeth sunk deep in the base of his neck, fingers guided his head into place, and she slid herself home. Wet warmth moved down the length of him, and she caught his hands and held them away from her body as she moved.

Slow. Agonizingly slow. Twining her mind with his and melting them all into a puddle of girl-animal-weapon-man, and then fanning the flames higher until the chemical composition changed and they became something new. He was groaning, trying to drive his hips up, to push deeper inside her, but she had more control than he'd thought and rose away from him until he gave up and let her torture him just like he'd tortured her. It didn't take long though, all things considered.

She came with a shrieking cry, feral and wordless, and shuddered and shook atop him while he roared in the animal's voice and she drowned them both in the waters of her mind and set the final stamp of ownership on the new creation in their minds. Another section of foundation, spotted like the animal's hide. Another piece in the puzzle, in the wall they were building between themselves and the desperation of their situation.

The woman was scratching at him now, failing in his grip as he wrapped his arms around her torso and clung. He'd gotten her elbows pinned too, and clamped her legs between his knees. She was cursing him, threatening dismemberment and awful things on his manhood. He didn't care. He had his mind. Just for a moment maybe, but he had his mind. Jasmine and ylang ylang needed to go. She was supposed to smell like apples and rain, warm vanilla and residual traces of _him_.

Frantic, praying he wouldn't be too late; he let the instincts come to the fore, the little niggling voice he'd been ignoring since the start of this exercise. It had an animal's shape. A black jaguar's; huge and deadly. He set it loose, aimed at the girl and the weapon that he _knew_ were somewhere on the other side of that stream. The man planted himself in the mouth of the cave, feet sunk into the metal that lined its floor and hands clinging to the rock of the walls. Thus anchored, the animal went hunting, moving far faster than it ever would in the wild. It knew what it was after. It knew where she was. The only trouble would be catching her and dragging her back.

She screeched, whether in pain or protest he didn't know. It didn't matter. The animal had found her, somewhere in the fog across the stream from him. It tasted wrong, smelled worse, and clung to its coat like tar. But it made it through, set teeth in an ankle, and sent notice to the man.

It took almost all he had left. He was shaking by the end, sweating like a horse and gasping for breath. But he managed it. Managed to haul the animal and its prey back to the clear air and the tree with its stream. Her clawing at his legs stopped, her breathing slowed, and all the bad smells started to vanish. Lemons burned their way up his nose, tempered with enough witch-hazel to sink a ship. But there were apples there. And rain. Faint, but there. And for the promise of having them grow stronger, strong enough to overpower everything else, for that he could deal with the lemons.

She panted in his harms, all the fight gone out of her. In his mind she uncurled from the fetal position she'd been in since the animal and the man had pulled her from the clinging fog. Tearstained cheeks under huge wet eyes, and lips cracked and bleeding from too much crying and gnawing. Her hair was a rat's nest, and her naked body held every mark he'd put on her since this whole thing had started. Even the ones that had faded with time were there, dark and accusing. He didn't care. She was there, and the weapon was crawling out of the stream behind her. The animal lay between them, and managed to curl around the girl just as the man staggered over to kneel next to them. The weapon oozed into his lap and the cuts and slices from her bladed limbs only served to prove even further that this was where he belonged.

He could feel consciousness slipping, knew he'd over extended himself. But the buzzing hornet's nest of wrongness was gone from his mind; and the stream, the tree and the cave were all back where they belonged.

She sighed against him, leaning her head back to trace her nose along his jaw. ::The Riddick,:: she murmured in a quiet voice. ::The match.::

He snorted and stuck his nose behind her ear. :River,:: he replied. :_My_ match.:: She was almost out when he added the last bit, unable to resist. ::The shit you talk me into girl.::

**Author's Note:** Well it's about time huh? As I was trying to come up with what sorts of triggers the Academy might have given River, I kept coming back to this one. It's all well and good to beat the tar out of someone, but what if they needed something more subtle? Either as an assassination technique or as an information gathering tool. I don't see them having any problem with flipping the switch and making her seduce whoever she needed to. In fact, I couldn't see how I could avoid the question. So I made the best of it.

The corset…well, it was going to be later. Much later. A reward at the end of all this. Partly because I couldn't really envision the scene. They'd sniped and bickered and threatened each other enough about this thing that the payoff would have to be great, and frankly, I'm not that good at coming up with scenes like that on purpose. Everything but the first lemon, they all just sort of…happened. So I know it's a bit disjointed, and backwards (on purpose I promise). But Riddick's brain is have a bit of a breakdown…so yeah

As always, they aren't mine. Wish they were. They're not. I did post a piece of artwork (well, a link) in my profile that I did for a recent Riddick contest. I didn't win, but hey, I tried right?

Shenandoah76209: Had to take a break to edit this. Ah, fun. Yeah, poor Jayne. I think that he might have looked at River and thought once or twice. But a combination of his own history and the knowledge (especially after Serenity) that she could freaking dissect him in the blink of an eye would have put him off. Now he uses the sister analogy and has no interest in getting in Riddick's way. But sleepy River wrapped in a sheet? Lol. Too much fun to torture him with. And yeah, finally someone listening to Riddick. Hopefully it pans out!

: Glad you liked it!

Rachet: Hope you get better! Feel free to ask whatever you want

Translations:

NONE! Oooh!

Cool water-calm, battle state

Sour fruit- drugs burning out of system

Citrus-fear/terror

Rain/apples- base scent

Charcoal-tipping off edge of sanity

Silk- joy, exaltation

Wet earth/peat- sadness

Warm vanilla-arousal

steel, the smell of a good blade freshly honed.-anger

Witchhazel-mindless killing, when she's a river of blades

Mint- anticipation

Simon's cooking-disgust

Malt-exhaustion

Bitter herb-hurt, emotional

Charcoal and fire-she is in the river, listening

Burnt sugar-embarrass

Ozone-despair

Sour apples-shock, surprise

Cedar-when she's playing at being companion. Perfume of apprentice

Lilac: mischief

Swamp water: horror


	51. Chapter 51

Ch. 51

_Listen to me_

_Keep your mind on the mission_

_Remember you belong to me_

_Come on, we should get it going_

_Now what I want is specific_

_You putting on a show for me_

_The ruler and the killer baby_

"The Ruler and the Killer" Kid Cudi

There was music playing. Soft. Barely audible. A quiet plucking of strings, the slide of fingertips along tiny metal ridges, and the tiny vibrating hum as the sound box picked up the noises and magnified them. Just a little. Just enough for Riddick's ears to pick them up and transmit to her. It wasn't a lullaby, although by the tempo it probably should have been. It was a soldier's song, old as time itself. Or so it seemed. She'd never known the origins of the notes that Jayne sometimes played, when he thought no one was around to hear and she was asleep somewhere that she couldn't pick up the thoughts that went with the song. She knew that if Mal or Zoe had ever heard it, there would have been questions. Many of them. And the confrontation would probably ended one of two ways. Jayne would have packed up and left the boat, unwilling to stay where there was so much speculation in their eyes; or he would have locked himself in his bunk and come out only for jobs and food.

Now though, he thought they were both asleep, still knocked out by whatever it was that had caused them both to collapse without the need for the safe words. It worried him some, and he was just a tad more concerned for her than for the big man who'd nearly crushed her to death. But he was also slightly hopeful. Whatever had been happening down in that room, the mere fact that the safe words _hadn't_ been used made him think progress had been made. He'd been living in Mik-lat long enough to know what it looked like when they failed, completely and utterly.

The surface on which she lay rumbled slightly. She gave up on her pretense of sleep to shift and squirm just a little further up his body so that she could press her ear over Riddick's heart and so feel its steady beating along with his breath. Jayne's fingers stopped, shifted abruptly into a different song. Now he didn't even pluck the strings, the music was all in his head as he moved his fingers from one position to another along the neck of the guitar. He was expecting Riddick to wake soon, and didn't want to be the cause of any irritation. Especially given the big man's temper lately.

He needn't have worried. Riddick was still out, although he would wake soon. She didn't mind. It was so rare that she woke first, was able to enjoy the mobile mass of muscle that she lay upon. It usually led to her rousing him in very interesting way, but now, seeing as they weren't alone, she'd just have to content herself with basking in the warmth radiating from his bulk as she listened to him breath.

It wasn't until Riddick stirred under her, bringing one hand up to weave his fingers through her hair and the other to rest over her hip that Jayne left. Setting the guitar aside, he slipped from the room, intent on finding Inara and the Operatives. River inched her way closer to Riddick's shoulders, although she couldn't move very far. One leg had wrapped around his, and the other foot was pinned somewhere under his knee. It hurt too, now that she was moving. Her ribs felt like someone had wrapped a metal band around them and squeezed. He chuckled as she squirmed against him, and let her struggle a moment before releasing the foot and pulling her the last little ways needed for her to be able to bury her face in his neck. Strong fingers worked at her lower back, and she nearly purred as he rubbed at the skin behind her ears. She could feel little shocks and echoes of pain as they shuddered through her body, and knew that laying on him was probably doing nothing for her ribs. Or for him either, considering the fact that she'd managed to nearly crack his entire left side not four days ago.

But nothing really fresh. Nothing but some faint twinges in her hands and the ghost pain when she breathed. Nothing dislocated, nothing that would turn either of them the color of overripe fruit. No splints or new stiches needs. No bandages that would need to be changed soon. Nothing. Somehow. Some way, they'd managed to avoid all that this time. How? Why?

::Think I did it.:: He'd been following her train of thought, taking inventory of the injuries right along with her. He knew when he'd be fully functional again. Down to the day. He'd had enough experience with getting cut, shot, beat to a pulp and nearly crushed that he could tell how long he'd be down. And this last trial, it hadn't set the clock back at all.

She twisted and levered herself up to look him in the face, straddling him across the hips and knowing that vanilla was flooding the room around them as she brought herself into alignment with his inevitable reaction. She ignored it, just as he did. There were more important things at stake here.

Silver eyes met hers, and he was smirking at her; that smug look that said he was all sorts of pleased with himself. She would have hit him on principle if she hadn't been so curious, and if hope hadn't been trickling its way through her head. The animal was sprawled out on its side by the stream, the man had seated himself nearby, and they were drawing her down with them, down into soft grass and warmth.

"How," she asked, trying to read the answers in his eyes.

"That is an excellent question."

The door had opened behind her, and Paul slipped in, followed by Thomas, Jayne and Inara. All four radiated curiosity and concern. And hope. It was a feeling she hadn't gotten from any of them in weeks. Even Jayne and Inara, so recently come to the complex, had been rapidly losing theirs. Two weeks of trials since they'd arrived, and every one of them a failure. So what made this one different?

She pushed the question in Riddick's direction and he grumbled at her, gave her a shove on the shoulder to get her to move back, and pulled himself up into a sitting position. More ghost pain from old bruises, transmitting itself down the bond. She winced as her freshly squeezed ribcage protested her sudden movement, and pinched him hard when he started maneuvering her around to sit between his knees. She could move very well on her own thank you, just not very fast. He growled at her in his head and ignored her protests. Stubborn man.

All that got her was an amused look and an increase in purring from the animal.

The others had found chairs as the two in the bed got situated. "Now," Thomas poured coffee into cups and handed them out. "I must say, considering the outcomes of the previous trials, this one was a giant leap forward."

River took the cup offered her, and sipped as she tried to get her memories in order. Behind her Riddick was making his usual faces at his own cup, and she prodded at the man and animal both as they turned up their noses. Turkish coffee was not his thing. The taste and the smell overwhelmed and nobody had brought any cream to soften the blow to the senses. She wanted to laugh. He'd do shots of the foulest liquors; toss them back straight from the bottle even. He'd drink the horrible slam teas, the ingredients of which were usually highly suspect. But give him a cup of honest coffee and he turned into a little boy. Granted you really _could_ stand a blade in the brew. It was a point of amusement she'd kept hold of in an increasingly bleak existence, and it still brought humor to his mind as he braced, tossed it back, and got rid of the cup before anyone could offer him more.

In regards to the trial though, she was coming up blank. The others were watching them, waiting for an answer, but she had none to give. As for Riddick, he was holding the memories away from her, and she only had bits and pieces. Which in and of itself was unusual. Far too often in these trials, she came out knowing exactly how they'd gotten every bruise and cut and scrape, and he was the one missing giant gaps. They'd melded the flashes and bits they had and both ended up with a cohesive whole. But this time… this time she only remembered an objective. Get the intel from the man, sleep with him if need be. But flirt and work her way in past his guard and bring back the information required by her handlers.

She had that and then the initial encounter with the target, but then things went…fuzzy. Only bits and pieces were available to her. She knew that she'd still been trying to achieve her target objective, but something had been wrong with the man. Something had happened to him and all she could think was that maybe it would make him more likely to talk. Maybe she could avoid ending up in bed with him if she could make him slip up. Because for some reason, the idea of letting this man lay hands on her bare skin lit of revulsion of the highest magnitude. And it came paired with a desire that absolutely terrified her. He was dangerous, he could create weakness, and she couldn't even pinpoint _why._

She prodded at the animal in his mind, knowing it was the one holding his memories, and hers for that matter. It ignored her, deep in some sort of discussion with the man. She knew they knew something, but all she could pick up was a sense of debate. Of trying to figure out what to say. Of how much to say.

::All of it,:: she snapped, angry at being left out. ::The girl does not know what happened either.::

The surprised him enough to break loose a bit of the barrier he was keeping up between the memories and her. The fact that the barrier never went away entirely was a source of irritation to her, but she'd discovered by now that it was instinctual on his part. Having the animal wall off what he didn't want to remember, or didn't understand, until such time that he could go over it in detail. Until he pick things apart and decipher them. He still hadn't shared his dream from the Training House with her, and she had a feeling he was treating it the way he did all dreams of Shirah. To be ignored until it was impossible not to pay attention. But as for this; these were true memories, and he was almost as confused by them as she was.

She stared up at him as the remembered feelings and flashbacks skittered through her brain. The objective, the goal. The corset he'd taken _ages_ to get off. And then it made sense. He had reached for her at the end, same as he did at the start of every trial. But this time, instead of trying to anchor himself in the reality of the room around him, or in the remembrance of her touch, he'd managed to root into the foundation. Sunk himself into it so deep that nothing could drag him out. Deep enough that _he_ was the one able to do the pulling.

The man with the chill brown eyes stared down at her, and something in him approved of the awe she was feeling. The animal wrapped itself around her legs, rubbing its head against her hip. She clutched at the knees she sat between in the physical and tried to work it out. How had she missed it? How had _they_ missed it? With all the emphasis he'd put on it before they arrived, for all the times she'd brought it up to throw in his face. _Wu de tyen ah!_ Even after the control test, she'd used it to convince him, to convince herself, to keep trying.

Curiosity, worry, and no little impatience washed over her. She snapped her head around to stare at the other four, still waiting for their answer. Paul and Thomas looked impassive, Inara was starting to twitch. Jayne was severely uncomfortable, but unwilling to leave without finding out what had the two in the bed in such a knot. He wished they'd hurry up and get whatever headgames they were playing over an' done with. Too much thinking could be bad for a body.

She giggled. She couldn't help it. The others blinked, and Riddick's arm around her waist tightened, then relaxed as he caught the source of her amusement. A low chucked rumbled in his chest, and he rubbed a thumb over her hip. "It's the foundation," he said after a moment's pause. "The bond itself. It," he shrugged and nudged at her to finish what he couldn't.

"The certainty," she whispered, laying back against his chest and picking up the hand he had been using to toy with her thigh. "The knowledge that we are matched, equals. He keeps up with, doesn't fear me. The girl does the same." She looked up into uncomprehending faces and sighed. It wasn't so much that they didn't understand. It was that they had no frame of reference by which to base a comparison. She and the Riddick, they spoke their own language after all, and it was far more a product of mental cues, body language and scent than it was of words.

He was laughing in her head, a rich sound that drowned her in his warmth, and the hand she held turned to engulf hers. He was triumphant, and loving it. Not only had they, he, finally managed to break from the behavioral triggering; but she was realizing that while sometimes words could indeed be stones, they were just as often stumbling blocks. At least to those around them. He'd already won the argument, long ago, but to see it confirmed again was making him pleased as hell. Some things just couldn't be expressed with a voice. So many weeks ago, he'd made that point. Back when he'd first poured the foundations actually.

So long ago. Such a thing to cling to. She was still mildly stunned at having not thought of it, of having taken the basis of their bond so much for granted.

::You weren't the only one.:: The animal gave her a final nudge before turning its attention back to their audience. "It's the why. _Why_ this works." She knew he was staring at Inara, intent and seriousness suffusing his body and voice. "Why it's not love. Why it'll never be love." He shifted, uncomfortable even speaking the word. His head ticked in Jayne's direction, and she felt curiosity ripple through the Riddick's mind as he noted a total lack of surprise in the man's scent. He pushed some of it her way, and she knew what he wanted. He wanted to know why of course. She ignored him. Now wasn't the time for that, and besides, Jayne's secrets were his own to reveal in his own time. Same as theirs.

A mental shrug and he moved on. He knew she was right, but it had been worth a try. Maybe if he got the man drunk enough sometime…

She interrupted that train of thought before he could continue, taking up the thread of explanation again. "So wrapped up in each other," she said. "Root the self in the here and now and each other. Trying to cling to the physical." She shook her head and reached for Riddick's other hand where it rested on her hip, bringing them together in front of her. "Not what was needed. Needed to remember the foundation of the bond itself. Now that we have succeeded once," she mock hissed at the man behind her as he gave her a mental prod. "Now that the _Riddick_ has succeeded in pulling the girl from the fog, they have hope. Has been done, can be done," she squared her shoulders and tried to ignore the pain in her ribs as she met Paul's eyes. "Will be done."

Interest from all. Slight awe from Inara as she worked her way through the half riddled information that had been given. A sort of resignation from Jayne. He didn't get it. Not all the mental hokum. He understood the match and the lack of fear. Even thought he could understand how they could cling to each other like they did. But he just didn't understand how it all translated into the ability to yank out of the triggers. To pull their minds free. Give him guns and an honest fight any day. All this mental _go se_ was beyond him.

She took pity on him, knowing he'd only come up to the complex because he'd been told to and because he thought Mal wanted him to keep an eye out and make sure Riddick didn't kill her. Although they were agreed on that. Although what the Captain thought he could do about it if the safe words failed to kick in in time, she had no idea. And neither did Jayne. Thankfully, her stomach chose that moment to announce that it was empty, and she was awash in amusement as she freed a hand to rub at it. Jayne was up and out, thinking on getting food and hopefully missing as much of the upcoming conversation as he could. They were about to go talkin' on things in detail, and he wasn't interested in sitting there and looking stupid through it all.

Riddick approved of the idea of food, and gave her a light shove in the back to get her moving. She slipped out of bed and over to the table, the Furyan not far behind, and he drug a chair over to where the others still sat while she poured herself another cup of coffee from the pitcher there. This was indeed going to be involved, even if they couldn't manage to put half of it into words. There were plans to be made now. She could feel them forming, even as she let Riddick tug her down to perch on his knee and hooked her bare feet around his ankle to hold herself in place. Not that she needed the help. The aching need for contact, to plaster herself against him and melt into him like butter over a hot fire hadn't gone away just because they'd met with success this once.

And the arms he wrapped around her waist and the chin on her shoulder told her that he was, in part, feeling the same. The other part just couldn't resist claiming her, showing these men that she was his to take care of and not theirs. She muttered at him in his head and plunked herself down on the stream bank, several yards away from the man and definitely out of reach of the jaguar in its tree. He rumbled in reply and snugged her closer, but his mind was mostly on the future. Short term though. What they were going to do next. How they were going to manage this together.

Paul and Thomas' minds were running along the same lines. She cut them off before they could start expounding on the theories she could feel rising to the surface, sinking, and coming back re-formed.

"She knows," she said, sipping at the coffee. "Knows it is only a first step, with _one_ of the incomplete triggers. Knows the road is long, and there are other triggers more deeply rooted in her psyche that will take more effort to break free of." She sighed and ran a finger around the lip of her cup. "The girl theorizes that it was _because_ it forced them to behave so far outside the norm. That it is _because_ it was an incomplete trigger, that Riddick was able to pull them free."

Fingers down her back, tracing her spine through her shirt. The heat of his body was making her skin erupt in gooseflesh, and she knew he was wanting to toss them all from the room, maybe get Inara to lace her back into that corset, and make some new memories to anchor himself in. She snorted and laid her head on the hip of the jaguar, it having come to lie next to her on the stream bank. ::Memories yes. But reinforcement of the bond, the foundation, is a better idea.::

He ignored her, kept up his assault of mental images and ideas, and tilted his head at Paul. "How long you think it will take," he asked. "If we manage to make progress?"

The man shrugged and propped his elbows on his knees. "That depends entirely upon the two of you Mr. Riddick. If we continue with the incompletes, and work our way through them to the ones that are more…finished; it is possible that a few weeks may suffice. We will have to be certain you can beat the triggers, every time. That may take some time." Spreading his hands before him, he looked over her shoulder to meet those gleaming eyes. Sincerity and calculation radiated not only through his mind, but in his scent as well.

She knew Riddick could feel the twofold reassurance that the man before them wasn't going to let them leave only half finished. Part of him was glad of it. The other part was saying they hadn't seen more than a scrap of sky here and there out the windows or off the balcony in much too long. He wanted this done. He wanted to be free. He wanted-Something he was trying to hide with the animal. It niggled at her, and she squirmed her way away from the jaguar and headed for the cave. He was hiding something, had his back up about something. Something to do with time and its passing.

The man blocked her way and she scowled up at him, feeling the weapon rise from the stream and come to stand at her shoulder. Cool water and steel, passed to her by the link to the jaguar, mixed with his unease and determination. She twisted in his lap to glare at him, and his silver eyes were hard. She caught a thread of a promise. A trickle of worry. The decision to put things off as long as possible. But nothing else. Nothing that did more than tease as to his reasons for closing up so suddenly. Just…time.

Fine then. He wanted to be opaque and stubborn, he could be so. She'd wear him down eventually. Besides now wasn't the time for-She stopped. Time. What was it about time? What about that word, about the passing of seconds, minutes, hours, days, and weeks? A vestigial measurement, once based upon Earth's rotation around a fixed axis as it traveled around the sun. Moon cycles, weather patterns. Seasons changing. Time, intangible and ever fixed. It could not be stopped. It could not be avoided. It marched on despite how they'd locked themselves under a mountain and buried themselves in each other.

Buried. Covered. Dead to the world outside, but alive in each other's skin, each other's minds. But still. Dead. Death. Time stopped only for the dead. They no longer grew, no longer expanded their knowledge, passed it on to others. Their bodies decayed, true. Time still held in the physical. But in the mental? They were an ocean of whispers and screams just beyond the boundaries of the delta, where the river merged with the sea.

She twitched, and felt hard arms holding her tight to a warm body. But the river had her now. It was reminding her of things she'd pushed aside. Desperation had overwhelmed but the urgency was resurfacing now that hope glimmered. Kyra's body had been outside time. Held in cryo, not allowed to decompose. It could give up so much knowledge in the wrong hands. And she was still deeply certain that the wrong hands, Blue hands, had indeed found her. How long had it been? Her mind ran the calculations, but it all boiled down to one answer. Too long. Long enough that they may have discovered the anomalies in her genome. That they could have extracted the serum.

"Kyra," she gasped, and felt shock and anger around her. Jayne had come back sometime while she was drifting, and his concern and worry were nearly overwhelming. Riddick's emotions were worse, and she clawed for the safety of the tree as the man went rigid in fury and surprise. He'd been following her train of thought after all. But the response was no less violent for all it was self-directed.

She didn't bother asking how they'd forgotten. She knew very well how. And even though she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they had needed to work on the triggers, she couldn't help the guilt. The anger. The shame of having forgotten.

Riddick had an even better question. Instead of "How," he was asking "Why." Something in his mind ran over into hers, and she felt herself moving alongside him. He had Paul up against the wall, one huge hand wrapped around his throat and pinning him there. She kept Thomas on the ground, one arm twisted up behind his back and her fingers hooked under the casing of his false eye. More surprise, and no little amount of fear. Neither Inara nor Jayne understood what was going on. And there wasn't time to explain.

Time.

Eight weeks, two days and fourteen hours of it since they'd lost Kyra. You could cross the 'Verse in that amount of time. She could be anywhere by now.

Riddick was rumbling, the sound more animal than man, and his lack of edged weapons was more than made up for in threatening presence. "Why didn't you tell us," he snarled at Paul. "Why didn't you keep us up to date?"

River was probing at Thomas as he lay beneath her. She'd managed to hit two of the key nerve clusters as she brought him down, and while they wouldn't hold him long, they'd hold him long enough to keep him from throwing her off. But his mind was walled off, far better than any of the crew had ever managed. Butterflies floated in front of her, and a disembodied voice was full of reproach. He was disappointed that she couldn't wait for answers. That she, who valued privacy of thought so highly, would try and take the knowledge from him by force.

She was just frustrated enough, and had enough of Riddick's anger spilling through the bond, that at that moment she didn't give a damn about his feelings. She hauled back on the casing and leaned down to snarl in his ear. "Were you _ever_ looking for Kyra?"

That lit off anger in Jayne and Inara, and she could feel them starting their own calculations. Riddick laughed, a deep sound full of rage and hatred, and squeeze just a little harder on Paul's throat.

"Yes," Thomas gasped, and rolled his good eye back to look at her. "Yes!" He coughed. The human neck was not meant to bend backwards as she was forcing it. "But did not want to distract you. To risk interrupting your work with the triggers till we had actual news." And he dropped the barrier of butterflies and shoved everything in his mind to the forefront.

Inara caught her as she lurched backwards, staggering under the onslaught. Riddick dropped Paul and lunged for her, and she clung to his arms as she tried to process the information. Computations, lines of logic, little rabbit trails that dead ended in front of doors too small to go through, and no handy drink or tea cake to help her through. Agents sent out, quietly. Agents returning empty handed. Thousands of possibilities and no concrete answers. The 'Verse was huge, and home to billions. And she'd asked them to look for a needle in a haystack. A _dead_ needle in a haystack.

They had tried.

And so far they'd failed.

Inara was on one side, hand under her elbow. Jayne had taken the other, and his worry and fear of her in this state was almost comforting in their familiarity. Paul and Thomas were picking themselves off the ground, rubbing at throats and over sensitive muscles. She ignored them all. Except of course, for Riddick. The solid rock, the oasis of calm, the sanctuary of the tree that beckoned her even while he fumed and snarled at everyone in general. He was holding her by the shoulders and trying to piece together all the information that had just flown through her mind. She gave him the end result, and he growled again. She agreed entirely. It had been too long. There were too many directions to go. What were the chances they'd _ever_ find the girl, the Catalyst?

Had she doomed them all with her selfishness?

**Author's Note**: Mmmm. Fun huh? Because as much torture as those triggers are, we've still got the bigger problem to deal with.

A note, because these two aren't very clear. The bond is the connection, the ability to mindspeak and landscape each other's heads and transmit emotions and whatnot. They've been clinging to that. But it's the REASON for the bond, the reason it works at all that's what can help them come out of the triggers. It's the foundation, that dead certain knowledge that they are matched, a team in harness (ideally). She keeps up and makes him keep up. He does the same.

As always, they don't belong to me. Drat

Thanks ever so for the reviews, favs, follows, reading this thing in general. I promise, there is an end!

Shenandoah76209: Yeah, I didn't want it too logical. His brain is tripping after all. Hope it made sense in the end though! I think, if he doesn't stop this vendetta against her clothes soon, she might just find something like that. But every time I envision it, I get the one from _Robin Hood Men in Tights_… /cough

NefariousImp: Glad you like it! Here's another update! Hope you enjoy!

: Hopefully not too confusing. But I'm glad you thought it worked.

Translations:

_Wu de tyen ah!-_ Dear God in Heaven!

_go se-_ Shit


	52. Chapter 52

Ch. 52

_Why give up, why give in?_

_It's not enough, it never is._

_So I will go on until the end._

_We've become desolate._

_It's not enough, it never is._

_But I will go on until the end._

"Until the End" Breaking Benjamin

Jayne hadn't let go of that guitar once in the day and half she'd spent under the mountain, except for when he absolutely had to. If he wasn't playing it, it was slung over his back, waitin'. It was worse than when he walked around all covered in his "girls". They at least, served as a reminder of his purpose on the ship and a warning to all those who though he might have a bit of softness in him. This latest obsession with the guitar, unnamed as it was, was an all too vivid reminder both of better days and of worse. Of the days when River would dance in the corner or out in the cargo bay. Of the days before. Before huge hulking men who followed her around like faithful pets. Dangerous faithful pets, but pets nonetheless. Of days of days before the girl could be found with a Cortex screen tucked in a sling and a haunted look in her eye that she hadn't seen since before that _ta ma deh_ broad wave.

The current song was unknown to her, but it still sounded very familiar. She was beginning to suspect that he made them up himself as he went along, pulling this bit of a jig, that bit of a march, and combining them all with his own set of chords and strumming patterns. The thought was downright unsettlin'; just like every other thought that had to do with him being anything other than a dense, temperamental gun hand with an over fondness for guns and whores.

Zoe shook the idea from her head and concentrated on the task at hand. She was helping Riddick tack out a hide on the table, and he was giving her a look that said she'd better get her mind back on the job or they'd have to redo the whole thing. She snorted to herself and shook her head at him. Man thought she was distracted? Half _his_ attention was on River, curled up in a chair in the corner and a portable Cortex setup she had spilling out of her lap. The girl was covered in bandages, the aforementioned sling serving as a prop for the screen itself, and one knee was stuck out on a cushioned bench in front of her, a brace around the knee and a bag of ice draped over that. Half her face was yellowish green, the other had a blackened bruise along the jaw, and her upper arms were a mess of multicolored remnants of conflicts old and new. She looked like a spider in its web, cords and sourceboxes and cables plugged into every jack she could reach. Sheaves of flimsies lay in stacks around her feet, and every so often she'd scribble something on one of the actual pieces of paper sitting on a desk at her elbow. She'd been at it for hours, and the scowl hadn't left her face once.

In another corner, Inara sat on a pile of cushions with Sierra across from her. The two were playing some sort of complicated game that involved clapping their hands, silly faces, and the occasional exclamation of dismay as one or the other missed the rhythm and had to start all over again. Zoe was keeping an eye on her daughter, waiting for the moment when she got bored and a new way to entertain her had to be found, but so far she was having a great deal of fun learning to count above twenty in both English and Chinese.

A low rumble and a tug at the cowhide from the other side of the table and Zoe turned to scowl at Riddick. He might be all big and scary, but she knew he wasn't going to do anything to her. If he was, it would have been ages ago. Probably when he found her on that balcony all those weeks ago and tried to intimidate her instead of beating her down. She had no doubt he was able to. The man moved like a cat, and even if he hadn't called himself a murderer, she'd seen enough blood and mayhem to know the minute she laid eyes on him that this was a man very, very familiar with both. The subsequent weeks had only reinforced that opinion.

But they had also shown her that he knew control as well. Knew how far he could push his body and exactly how far he could push someone else's till it broke entirely. That was what made it so terrifying, had her reaching for her gun and deciding that a head shot was better than targeting the central body mass. When he did lose control, when he did lose his temper and go monkeyshit, it was a sight to behold. The day in the cargo hold was nothing on one of the trial runs these two had gone through before they started defeating the triggers.

She'd only been up for one, bringing Mal a pile of order slips and parts lists to go over so Kaylee could get on with the next step of rebuilding _Serenity's_ engine. At that point, the pair had still been working on the more finished of the triggers. In the space of seconds she'd watched as first one, then the other had turned into robots. Robots wielding death and destruction like tornados ripping across the landscape. She'd seen one of those once, and the devastation that had been left in its wake was horrific.

"Might want to be careful. Keep watching me like that and River'll come over and stake her claim."

She kept herself from jumping by the barest of margins. Gorram sneak had come up behind her while she was gathering up all the leftover tacks they'd used to pin down the hide. His voice, right in her ear, was almost enough to send her stomach flopping, and she muscled down the knee jerk reaction of her body by thinking hard on Wash. On the husband she'd been missing for years and would still love to her dyin' day. _Cao_. How did the man move so quiet? And when had she lost track of him?

He chuckled, again right in her ear, and moved on. He had a bundle of leathers straps and other odd bits in his hands, and began sorting them out on the table. Pattern pieces. To replace the harness the rains had ruined.

She snorted and shook her head, sending a look River's way. The girl was watching them, a grin plastered all over her face. Zoe twisted her mouth up in reply. Right. Stake her claim. As if she'd ever look at another man the way she'd looked at her husband. As if she'd want to be in another man's arms the way she'd been in his.

Pain, gut wrenching and just as fresh as the day she lost him. She gripped the edge of the table and focused on pushing through. On shoving it to the back of her mind and being in the here and now. There weren't any Reavers to cut down. Nobody she could take the anger out on. She'd have to do what she always did. Move forward. Keep goin'. Try to ignore the loss and the urge to curl up in some corner and just bawl her eyes out. Zoe Allayne Washburne did _not_ break like that. Hadn't in years. Not since her man was there to hold her as she woke from nightmare after nightmare. Dreams of walking through rivers of blood, of picking up the body parts of her friends and fellow soldiers and setting them aside so they could clear a path for those behind to move without stepping on something and giving themselves away. Visions of the walls they'd built with those body parts in them.

And then River was in front of her. How long she'd been lost in memories she didn't know, but it must have been long enough for the girl to untangle herself from her nest and pour a cup of coffee. She was holding it out like a supplication, and it was all she could do not to knock the thing from the girl's hands. This girl, who'd been a danger to them all since she set foot on the ship. This girl. For her they'd gone to hell and back. She'd lost her husband for the gorram secrets locked up in that head. _Wuh duh ma huh tah duh fong kwong duh wai shun. _The things they'd gone through for this girl. The things they were _still_ going through for her.

The coffee in the mug rippled and she realized River's hands were shaking. Tears were pooling in those big brown eyes, and she wanted to both wipe them away and slap the child. Right. Reader. No privacy here. No way to hide her pain and the anger she felt. The girl was probably getting it all. And still she stood there. Holding that cup of coffee and trying to apologize with her eyes. What was it she said? Words were more important. Actions though, were the final indicator. At least in Zoe's opinion

"Zoe." Riddick again, bracketing them both and hiding them from view of the rest of the room. He was holding out a bundle of thin leather pieces. "Mind laying these out?"

She took them; fingers numb and her focus still on the girl in front of her. River was staring down into the coffee cup, shoulders slumped and sadness in every line of her face. Good. Let her feel some of what she was feeling. Just because she'd come up here, put herself back in the mouth of the beast that was the Operative's operation, didn't mean she'd forgotten how it was they _came_ to be here in the first place. And what she'd lost along the way.

Riddick had gotten behind her and was herding her towards the far end of the table with a gentle sort of force that spoke volumes about just how much he was capable of. He could have just given her a shove, or picked her up and set her down where he wanted her. Instead, it was a hand between her shoulder blades, pressing until she could move where he guided her or get shoved on her face. She caught a glimpse of Jayne from the corner of her eyes. He was watching them, and something in his face was making the cold inside unfold a little, like he was ready to stand up for her if need be. She looked away. Not Jayne. Not ever. Only one man for her an' he was gone. Dead an' forever lost.

Riddick was pulling on the bits of leather in her hands, and what expression she could make out around the goggles told her that he was far less at ease than his posture said. Mouth set, frown lines pulling at the skin around the eyepieces, nostrils flared. He was probably glaring at her. She glared right back. _Hwoon dahn_ didn't scare her. Death would almost be welcome at this point.

'You're not mad at her," he rumbled quietly. His voice was soft enough, but there was an edge of anger to it. "Not really. You're pissed at the system."

Startled, she blinked up at him, and let him pull another strap from her hands without resistance. He smirked, and it wasn't a pleasant look. "That great fight for freedom you and Mal were part of. All down the drain." He turned his head slightly, and she looked over his shoulder to see River rearranging the cortex in her lap, face pale and lip between her teeth.

"You see her, see the trouble that follows her, and you get pissed. Start looking for ways to take it out." Another tug, another strap laid out over the hide. He shifted, herding her further around the table, and she was stunned enough to let him. A tiny bit of her brain noticed though. This was a man who got what he wanted, did what he felt like to people, and was just as good an maneuvering them to suit his whims as he was at ramrodding them in place. How did River manage him?

The guitar was still giving out music, although it was something quieter now. An old folk song about a home lost. She almost missed Riddick's next words as she twisted around to try and look at Jayne. But the big man caught her by the shoulder and kept her in place, and she knew if she tried to get away, he'd start bein' a lot less gentle. He the anger in his face was still there, and she had a brief moment to wish she was a quick enough draw to get him before he killed her. But she had a feeling only a head shot would bring him down, and besides, River'd probly' have an opinion on that.

"Get your head out your ass," he growled, snapping her mind back down to the present. "Quit worrying about the small scale and think about what'll happen to those fucks when we track them down. Think on what'll happen to those who started this. The ones who really got your husband killed."

Zoe dumped the pile of pattern pieces on the table so she could cross her arms and glare at him. It was a bit harder with those gorram goggles in place, but she knew he'd get the general idea. "Speakin' of which, how's that goin'?"

His hand clenched into fists, then loosened, and he snorted as he reached to lay another piece out on the hide. "Why do you think River's over there, all wrapped up in that shit?" He turned his head towards the girl, and she leaned around him to look. River was glaring at them, pen clutched in one white knuckled hand and the Cortex in the other. She knew that look. Gettin' the hell out of the way was startin' to sound like a really good idea right about now. Who knew which of the two was goin' ta blow up first? Or who they'd blow up _at_?

Another glance at Riddick and she amended the thought. River. Definitely River. There was just somethin'…off about the look on the girl's face. The man on the other hand, while just as angry, was tamping it down better.

And they said she couldn't see what was in front of her eyes.

Something in River's face loosened, and the girl covered her mouth as she snorted out a laugh. Half a second behind her Riddick chuckled and shook his head. "She thinks she can pull everything together," he said after a moment, back to being serious and angry. "Thinks that since she can't block anything out, she might as well try and merge it all. Take the work they've done and see if she can find where they took Kyra." He was twisting one of the pattern pieces in his hands, and she wondered if he realized what he was doing. His lips had turned down, and the tension was back in every line of his body. "Ain't having much luck."

Zoe opened her mouth to reply, but a tap on the door, followed by its opening, cut her off. Thomas stood there, a small bag in his hand. It was Sierra's overnight bag. She must have forgotten in in their room when they came down here.

"It's time," the man said, and Zoe sighed and braced for the inevitable.

Sierra took one look at the man and the bag he was holding out for her and wailed. Inara suddenly found herself with a clinging limpet of a girl wrapping her arms and legs around her and complaining loudly about not wanting to leave. Not wanting to leave any of them. Did they have to go? She wanted to stay! It had only been a day, and they hadn't come to visit in forever and ever before that. No! She didn't wanna!

Zoe started across the room, intent on fixing those bad manners and rescuing Inara, who was patting the little girl on the shoulder and making soothing noises as she tried to pry herself free. Jayne beat her there, bending to speak quietly in the girl's ear and working those huge fingers in under hers, inching them loose and transferring the grip to himself. By the time she'd gotten around Riddick and the table, Jayne had the little girl perched on a hip, thin arms nearly choking him and her feet hooked together behind his back as she kept up the wailing and complaining. His face was a picture of pained resignation, and she shook her head as she reached for her daughter. And be damned if the little _kǒng__bù_didn't yell louder and cling tighter.

"Nah," Jayne said, as if Inara wasn't laughing behind her hand and River wasn't doubled over giggling in her chair. "I'll carry her out. Might be she'll loosen up a bit." He twisted his head to look the girl in the face. "Or I could just scrape her off on the wall on my way."

That earned him a gasp of outrage and his neck back. Sierra propped her hands on her hips and glared at the gun hand, who grinned back with an expression that could only be termed Evil. Zoe rolled her eyes and crossed over to Thomas to retrieve the overnight bag. River was untwining herself from the cables again, and Riddick had left his work at the table to hand Inara her bag. The Companion nodded and smiled up at him, and for the umpteenth time Zoe wondered what in the 'Verse her friend had done to be on such easy terms with the man. It was almost as if he _liked _her, a thing she was sure didn't apply in her own case. She'd been none too friendly since they came to this place, and this was the first she'd come back to the complex since that first day or so. Strained was a mild term to describe the atmosphere. But Sierra'd been missin' River. Missin' Inara and Jayne too, and pestered and begged and made calf eyes until she'd caved. The fact that Mal'd wanted a sympathetic set of eyes to see what was going on up here, and figured she'd be the best bet let her pretend to herself she was here on orders. Wouldn't do to lose face after all.

They were up and out fairly quickly, all things considered. River'd had to kiss Sierra goodbye, and offered a tentative hug, which Zoe really couldn't bring herself to deny. Girl looked like death warmed over, even now, an' it was the least she could do. Riddick was right, damn the man. It wasn't so much the girl's fault. Gorram Alliance. Gorram Blue Sun…

It wasn't until they were going through that first meeting room, the cave they'd sat in and listened to River tell them just how desperate she'd been that she turned to these _niao se dub doo gway_ for help_, _ that anyone said anything. Jayne was muttering with Sierra, probably plots to steal sweets an' blame Mal if past antics were any judge. Thomas was quiet in front of them, less like a person and more like an automaton. The cybernetics only increased the creepifyin' factor. Inara was the one who broke the silence, sidling up in that way she had, like a housecat queen.

"She's not having much luck," the woman murmured.

Zoe yanked her head around to stare. Brown eyes lined in kohl met her own, and the look in them was as sad as any she'd ever seen from the woman. "What's that," she managed to ask, as though she didn't already know what her friend meant.

"With finding the girl. Jack. Kyra." Inara shrugged slightly, "Not that she's had much time, with the trials and recovery and all. But she lives with that Cortex now. And that pad of paper. Collating data, she calls it. Sifting through the minds of those who've tried so far and looking for clues." Inara shook her head, and her voice spoke volumes more than her words. It was always more 'n a little awe inspiring, when they were hit with what the Reader girl could do. Not that she showed it that much. Not that she'd ever made a point of showing off _anythin'_ she could do. In fact, compared to her behavior lately, she'd been downright secretive since she'd come back that first time. And if that wasn't that a thought to make a body want to curl up and hide somewhere, what was?

Jayne snorted and rolled his eyes on her other side. "Sure. She lives with that thing. Course, she and Riddick gotta stop touchin' an' gropin' each other long enough for her ta make any progress with it."

Zoe bit her lip to hide a grin, and Inara laughed. But the Companion's face turned serious quickly enough, and she shook her head. "It's true. They're still using each other as the anchor to get them through this. Not having been here long before they starting making actual progress, I couldn't tell you how much has changed, but something has. I don't think they're as desperate as they were before."

"Desperate," Jayne shook his head. "Riddick, desperate. Don't see how that works." He dodged one of Sierra's hands as she made a grab for his neck again. "Nah, now they got the trick of it, whatever the hell it is they do. Just practice at this point."

Zoe looked at him sideways. "I thought they still had a lot of the triggers to go through. Those what the Academy managed to get done before Simon found 'er."

Inara made a motion with her shoulders, not quite a shrug. "They do. They'll start on those tomorrow actually. It's why they're not trying anything today."

Zoe shook her head and sighed. So much trouble. How had they ever managed to end up in the middle of it? All they'd wanted was some passengers, all those years ago. Now here they were. In the underground base of some shadow organization, trusting former enemies to help them find a dead girl none of them had ever known while a mind reader and a…man tried to break themselves free of whatever it was that turned them into mindless killing machines at the drop of a hat.

"What happens when they're done with all that," she asked, for anyone who'd answer. She got blank looks from her crewmates. Sierra, bless her heart, tried to reach over to pat her on the shoulder, face full of childish sympathy. Zoe smiled and ruffled her hair. Poor kid. Stuck in the middle of all this.

"I believe that is what has spurred this latest project of River's," Thomas turned his head, then dropped back slightly. He'd been walking a little ahead of them to give them the illusion of privacy. They didn't need a guide really, just someone to open the doors. "She hopes that if she can find what we have so far failed to locate, by the time they're done with the triggers it will be possible to go and get Riddick's…sister back."

Zoe felt her eyebrows climbing. "Just like that. Go get her. How?"

The man shrugged. "To tell the truth Mrs. Washburne, I do not know. I imagine that plan will be made when we actually have some useful information."

"So," Jayne hitched Sierra around so she was clinging to his back. "None yet? What's River working with then? Gotta be somethin' if it's got her and Riddick so twitchy."

Zoe blinked. Twitchy? She'd thought all that back and forth glaring had just been normal for those two lately. Maybe she _should_ have been comin' up here more often, if she was that bad at telling what was going on with them. A glance at Inara confirmed the feeling. The woman's lips had thinned, and there was a thoughtful look on her face.

"Possibilities," Thomas replied. "Blue Sun has many facilities, all around the 'Verse. The problem now is narrowing them down. And whether it is because they don't know what they might have with the girl's, with Kyra's body, or because they _do_ know; there is very little information available to help winnow them out. Until then there is little point in digging further. It will only raise flags and put this entire complex at risk."

Thomas turned and palmed open the door that would led into the bowl shaped entry to the complex. The sun was shining outside and the air in the place was stagnate. Zoe almost turned around, back to the climate controlled bliss of the complex. But it wasn't much of a walk really, to get back to the ship. Her quarters. Her bed. Not a borrowed room in a place full of people she didn't really trust.

The question was out before she really thought about it. "Why is she worryin' on it so much? Why not get the triggers over with, then go lookin? Best way ta find somethin's with your eyes after all."

"We have been, don't you remember? Thomas stopped to look at her. "But we need more than guesses to send any more people out. And," he stopped, looked up at the sky, and spread his hands in a gesture of futility "I believe that there's something driving her. The river she speaks on maybe. Whatever it is, the fear of what could happen if they discover this Necromonger serum has rooted in her mind and it will not let her go."

The next tunnel now. The sunlight overhead was rapidly failing and leaving the artificial lights to mark the path. They were silent for a little ways, each with their own thoughts. She didn't know what was on Inara's mind, or even Jayne or Thomas'. But she knew what she was haunted by. Another complex, empty but for a man and a Love-Bot until they arrived dragging thousands of Reavers behind them. Sitting in that sealed off hallway, listening to the noises outside and thinking that this was it. End of the line. River, out there with the Reavers and having God knew what done to her body.

And then the door opening and the girl standing there. Covered in blood and a weapon in either hand. The look in her eyes. Like the next person to make _any _sort of sudden movement would find themselves on the floor with the rest of the bodies that had once been men. Reavers, madmen created by the Alliance. Madmen who'd shot a gorram _tree_ through her husband's chest. Madmen who, if the girl was right, could be controlled. Aimed. Given commands and sent out to decimate the 'Verse.

It was enough to send chills up the spine and make her want to go looking for the deepest, safest bolthole she could find.

They were reaching the last door now, and Thomas stood aside for them to pass. Zoe hung back, letting Jayne and Inara step out into the abandoned elevator and start the process of convincing Sierra to let go of the man's ears. She looked at the Operative, and realized she hadn't met his eyes once in the day she'd spent under the mountain. Well, eye. He gave her a half smile, as if he knew what she was thinking, her fears and reservations. She narrowed her eyes in return. "You like River," she asked, as softly as she could. "Care for her?"

He touched the metal webbing that traced over his skull, then looked down at the jointed metal of his hand. "I owe her everything."

"Then take care of her. She won't do it herself an' Riddick'll let them both burn before he lets someone else in."

He smiled for real now. "I wouldn't be so sure about that ma'm. He is taking care of her. Just in his own way. And if it makes you feel any better, I don't think he's any happier about her fixation on Kyra than you are. He is, if I may venture to guess, far more worried about the triggers at this point."

Sierra was kicking up a fuss again, and she was going to have to do something about that girl. But Thomas' next words stopped her. "If you believe Mrs. Washburne, pray. I think that the next set of triggers will be far harder to work through. He is right to be focused on them. Without total concentration…" He shrugged. "Who knows how long it will take for them to beat them."

Frowning, Zoe nodded. There was food for thought all right.

Another squawk from Sierra, and she grumbled her way over to the others. A swift smack on the rump, defenses put up against the huge eyes full of tears, and a reminder that Kaylee must have missed her in the engine room were all required to get the child to let go of Jayne's shirt. Inara was hiding a smile as the man grumbled about tearstains and stretching things out of shape, but he submitted to a kiss on the cheek easily enough. A few more seconds to let her wave goodbye to Thomas, and the two men vanished back inside the tunnel.

"Well," Inara said, grinning. "What do you want to bet Mal is waiting in the cargo bay, wanting a blow by blow of the day?"

Zoe snorted and punched the button to open the elevator doors. "Why bet? It's a guarantee."

**Author's Note: ** Huge thank you to Shenandoah76209 for helping me decide on this chapter. It was iffy, touch and go, but you're right. It kind of does help give some insight.

Zoe, BTW, is a pain. I love her, I do, but a chapter from her POV is kind of like pulling teeth. She just didn't want to cooperate! Boo.

Shenandoah76209: Heheh. I went looking for historical references. They all look wrong. I'm expecting an Everlast too! Unfortunately, I think these two (or River at least) have found themselves a different forest to be stuck in. Great huh?

Guiniverekay: Hehehe. Here's another! I do plan to punch out a few more very quickly these next couple days, seeing as I'm on vacation and just chilling around the house. As for triggers, I assume that by the time they were done with her, it wouldn't have mattered if she was crazy. They could make her act normal, make her act seductive, make her act terrified and in need of saving. Have you seen Dollhouse? Kind of like that, only not personalities per se, but mission goals. She'd then assume whatever behavioral characteristics needed to get the job done. If the seduction one had been complete, it may have worked better, but I'm not sure. They might have been basing things off of expected HUMAN behaviors, and the animal in Riddick is definitely not that. Maybe that's where her channeling comes from. She pulls personalities in to give her a way to achieve a goal.

Rachet: Are you better now? The trigger one made my head hurt too, but it had to be done. So sorry. At least I don't know that I have to write another chapter like that. Goody!

: Here's another! Hope you like!

Tranlations: (Cruddy, because I don't have my usual sources with me)

Ta ma deh-mother fucking?

Cao- fuck

_kǒng__bù_(terrible / frightful / frightening / terror / terrorist)

_Wuh duh ma huh tah duh fong kwong duh wai __shun-_ Holy mother of god and all her wacky nephews

_Hwoon dah-_ bastard

_niao se dub doo gway-_ piss soaked pikers


	53. Chapter 53

Ch. 53

_How do you feel? That is the question_

_But I forget… you don't expect an easy answer_

_When something like a soul becomes_

_Initialized and folded up like paper dolls and little notes_

_You can't expect a bit of hope_

_So while you're outside looking in_

_Describing what you see_

_Remember what you're staring at is me_

"Through the Glass" Stone Sour

The leather in his hands was well treated. Soft and supple, it was going to be a vast improvement over the last harness he'd had for the ulaks. That he'd stolen the blades and the rig in the first place probably had something to do with it. The weapons themselves fit in his hands like they were made for him. The harness on the other hand had never set quite right on his shoulders. But the Necros had a dearth of actual leather in their supplies, and he'd never felt much of a need to replace the gear any ways.

Now? Now it was almost a good thing that the last harness had gotten ruined by the rain. He needed something to do with his hands. Something to keep him from losing the last thread of his temper and going fucking batshit. He concentrated instead on the stitches he was marking out. And on trying to keep his mind on the conversation he'd had with Zoe while she'd been helping him get the hide and the pattern pieces in place. On the look in her eyes as she watched River work in the corner. The expression on her face when the girl had poured the woman a cup of coffee and offered it to her like a supplication. Like begging for forgiveness for things she'd never had any control over in the first place.

If he managed to stay mad at the first mate, maybe he could keep from going after the true target of his anger. If he could focus on the fact that the woman _still_ hadn't completely unbent, still had a stick up her ass about the whole Operative thing; maybe he could ignore the turn the conversation had taken.

But it wasn't working. Because that conversation had looped right around to exactly what had him pissed now. The woman's question had cut far too close to the nub of the problem. Too close to the reality of their situation. It was all too easy to remember why he was really angry. It was sitting right there in his mind after all, the knowledge burning like a torch.

There were limits, he decided. To what he was willing to put up with. To what he was willing to go along with. And today, right now even, he'd reached his. Fucking head. It was splitting open from the inside and he knew why. It wasn't from light. It wasn't even from the fact that he'd nearly gotten concussion that morning in the training room. It wasn't because they'd almost had the latest trigger beat, and then lost themselves again.

No, it was because he was a fucking anchor. Dead weight. Dropped to the sea floor of her mind and left there to cling to sanity while she went and flowed with the river. It was because he was what gave her the ability to pick through the minds of every spy, technician and analyst who'd tried to find Kyra and still keep the rest of her body moving, working on that fucking Cortex to try and meld it all into a whole. He was what was letting her sift through the information and look for clues. To ry and put pieces together and pull them apart again. Look for patterns, tracks that might have been missed by previous hunters.

Any other time he might not have minded as much. Might not have felt like dropping himself off that balcony at the end of the hall in hopes that he'd be knocked out long enough to get some real rest. But not now. Not when they were done with the incompletes and struggling with the last of the completed triggers. Not when they failed half the time and came out of the rest of the tries so mentally bruised and damaged that he was sometimes amazed he remembered how to dress himself.

He wanted nothing more than sleep without dreams.

If it wasn't one of them it was the other. River dreamed of possibilities. Nightmares of what would happen to their family, to him, if the secret of the Necro conversion was discovered and put into play. She clung in her sleep, less like a person and more like a human version of a limpet. He'd gotten kneed more times in the past two weeks than he thought he ever had in his life, and he might have thought it was on purpose if it wasn't for the fact that he could feel the images in her mind; the terror and the horror as she cut down first Simon, then Mal, then even Zoe as they stood over her and gave her the choices. Convert, share the meal on the table, share Sierra's body amongst themselves. Or join the little girl and feel the skin peeled from her back as her brother ravaged her from the front.

Two weeks of this fucking routine. Two weeks of little to no sleep, calming her hysterics as well as he could, and being as gentle as he knew how when she inevitably tried to memorize every line and contour of his body before sliding herself home along his length. It was a different sort of desperation that was driving her now. A different sort of determination. She was using it to fuel her search, to push herself beyond whatever limits she might have had and halfway to insanity in her quest to avoid that fate. To never have to cut down her brother, her adoptive father, him, before they could turn into that.

A twitch in his mind. Bitter herbs and steel worked their way up his nose, cutting through the scent leather of the harness he was rebuilding and mixing with the ever present ozone of her despair. Growling, he turned to look at River where she was curled up on the couch and buried in cables, cords, and who the fuck knew what else. A sheaf of flimsies sat next to her, readouts of old data and evaluations. A pad of real paper was on the table at her elbow, and she'd been scribbling her own gleanings on that. She had the Cortex in her hands, knuckles white as she glared at it and snarled. He couldn't find her in his mind. She'd slipped into the stream and vanished when she started her work, and it was only the headache that told him she was still with him in any sense of the word.

He dropped the harness and stalked across the room, arriving just as she yanked the cables from the Cortex tried to hurl it at the opposite wall. He caught it before it could get him in the face, chucked it over his shoulder towards the table, and had his hands under her arms before she realized he was coming. She struggled as he hauled her out of the nest she'd built and threw her over one shoulder. But it was more surprise than actual resistance and he could live with that.

"Enough," he snarled at her when she started to put some real effort into getting free. Her mind was a panicked mess, and the animal waited just long enough for the man to finish pulling her from the river before laying itself out across her. She was whimpering now, in her mind and with her voice. Something about the sound fanned the anger in his chest, and his headache bloomed further.

Growling, he dumped her on the bed, caught her as she tried to scramble off, and pinned her there with his knees. She bucked underneath him, eye wide and unseeing and lemons, steel, ozone, and witch-hazel ramming their way into his brain. Gathering up her hands, he stretched her arms out over her head and leaned down to capture her mouth with his. The man was yelling a protest, still too angry to think straight, but the animal had control. It was reaching for her, through the bond and through the physical, trying to drag her attention away from the world around them and back where it belonged. Him. She must have left more than half of herself in the river, and he was losing her fast.

Then the weapon rose from the stream to block the man from getting to the animal and the girl. Planting her feet, she met his enraged charge with a shoulder to the gut, and just like that he was down. Leaving him in the grass to bleed out from shredded stomach and internal organs, the weapon knelt by the girl's head and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

Just like that, she stopped fighting. A low moan vibrated against his lips, and when she arched up into him again, it was to press her pelvis to his. Her hands weren't trying to twist themselves free anymore, and the tension drained from her body like hot wax melting in a fire. Her heart rate was coming back on line, steadying as vanilla replaced lemons. She followed him as far as she was able as he eased away, and whimpered again as he broke contact.

"Enough," he whispered, once he'd caught his breath. "That's enough River. It's not working. "

And just like that, she was lost again. Her eyes rolled up, her mouth twisted, and she tried to curl in on herself; to hide. Fear and horror lanced through his mind from hers, and he realized he was losing his balance. He was going to crush her for real if he didn't get a grip on himself. On them both.

Growling and snarling, the animal had him pull her up. Get them situated so she was in his lap, cradled like a baby as she hugged herself and wept. He sighed. That wasn't what his plan had been. This wasn't supposed to happen. He'd just wanted to get her attention. Try and get her out of the river. What had her so on edge? What was _driving_ this obsession in the first place?

::Have to find her,:: she whispered. The animal had let her up, and she had her arms around its neck and her face buried in its fur. ::The river screams of it::

He growled and hitched her closer. Just fucking great. He should have seen it sooner. Probably would have if he hadn't been anchoring her down in reality, using the bond to keep her sane. This was just like Persephone, before that disastrous trip to the bar. The twisting gnawing fear that clawed at her brain. What the hell was it anyways? Was it really the river, the voices of all the billions of people in the 'Verse pouring through her head? Or was it true foreknowledge? Was she a Seer in truth? Whatever it was, it was going to drive them both insane soon. Her with the onslaught of it, him trying to hold it at bay for her.

The man was getting to his feet now, still pissed off and ready to tear into someone. Anyone. Even the girl. She'd been using him after all, using him to sink herself into this mess and get stuck there. The animal left off trying to tear the panic from her and growled at the man. Getting angry at her would do nothing to help. They were both stuck now.

Maybe a different tack. Pissing her off had worked in the past after all "Shouldn't be worrying on this anyways," he said. "Still got the triggers to get free off. You want to fail at that? Just cause you let yourself get distracted?"

She stiffened, and the steel got a little stronger. But not strong enough, not yet. "Doing ok," she muttered. She sounded sullen.

He laughed, and all the bitterness and anger of the past two weeks came spilling out with it. "Ok?" He yanked her shoulders around to make her look at him. "Ok? We're nowhere _near_ ok. Don't get our shit together we're never going to make it past these last few." He shook her slightly. "You want that? To know you'll never be free?

"All they'd have to do is keep sending out different triggers and then where will we be? Want to play Russian Roulette with the lives of everyone around you?"

Her jaw clenched, and she glared up at him. He caught her thought before she could vocalize it, and snarled in reply. So fucking stubborn. How'd he find the one girl in the universe he couldn't intimidate or talk around?

::Matched,:: she whispered, tucking her head under his chin and sighing. ::Just as he is the one man who will stonewall her until she sees reason. :: The witch-hazel wasn't completely gone, but it was fading. The cool water replacing it was a bit more of a worry, especially when combined with the steel and ozone still filling the air around them. She wasn't about to give up on this.

He tipped her face up to look into her eyes. "How do you know they've found anything anyways? How do you know they will? Not even three and half months River. What bunch of scientists gets anything done that quickly?" Not that he knew anything about science. But he couldn't imagine a whole lot of progress could have been made in so short a time. Fuck, for all they knew, Kyra's body could still be in storage somewhere, waiting for someone to figure out what to do with it. Or they could have just destroyed her. Incinerated her.

River was shaking her head, hair flying and slapping him in the face. "No no no no," she whispered and reached for his jaw. "Something there. Something _wrong_. She can feel it." Her hands were cold against his skin, and he could feel the slight tremor in her fingers. "The tide comes, the armies march. The galaxy runs with blood." Her voice was breathless, and her eyes unfocused as she stared at something only she could see.

He snarled and yanked his head free, grabbing for her hands and pinning them under his arm. "Doesn't matter. No one's been able to find anything. Nothing River."

She glared up at him, tears pooling in her eyes as she panted for air and tried to pull her hands free. Steel and witch-hazel were rising in the air, and the animal was slinking along the stream bank, trying to get the drop on the girl and pin her down. But she kept getting up and pacing in circles, stopping occasionally to stomp at the water and snarl down at it before crouching to cover her head with her arms and then repeating the process all over again. The man was approaching from the other side, but he wasn't having much luck in getting a grip on her either.

He grumbled to himself. Being stuck like this was making him mad as hell. He was tired of this. Tired of the lack of knowledge. Tired of just sitting on his ass and waiting for the world to end. He'd run first. Take her; take her whole fucking family even. Head out in space and get the fuck out of the way of all that. He wasn't interested in saving the worlds. His or hers. There were plenty out there that could be lived on. Plenty he'd passed on his way here. Fuck, if it came to that, he could go back to his home systems. They were harsher, true, but he'd live. She'd live. Somehow they'd manage, if it came to that.

But it Kyra's eyes were what haunted his dreams, looking at him through time. Cropping up in his memory like beacons. The blankness as she talked about the pain going away. The agony when she'd died. Caroline's eyes, kneeling there in the mud and begging him to come back with her. The accusation, still fresh in his ears. Human race? Fuck. He wasn't human. Why was he still trying to be a part of it?

::It is not about being human.:: The girl had stopped pacing along the edge of the stream and was glaring at the man. ::It is about doing _something_ with your life.:: She jabbed him in the chest with one bony finger. ::Survive for survival's sake. Is that what you want? Just to exist?:: She turned on the animal, a meter behind and her still trying to reach out to try and snag some of her nerves. ::Isn't that why you took her challenge? Why you went back for them? Shepherded them across the stars? Went looking for Jack when she landed herself in prison?::

Her eyes softened, and she knelt before the animal. ::Could run. Could go many places.:: Her hands were gentle as she ran her palm over that broad head, and he couldn't keep the anger from draining somewhat. ::Captain Daddy might even agree with you. Doesn't want to be in another war, especially one such as the girl has described.::

Hands in the physical now, worming their way out of his grip and being used to pull herself around to face him. Her legs, draped around his waist. Her scent, filling his nasal passages with cool water and charcoal and steel.

"But the tide is coming," she said, voice so soft he could barely hear her. "And even if a place was found to run to, even if tide comes ashore years from now instead of soon…" She trailed off and her eyes went blank. "So soon. She feels it in the river, the dead ocean rising in the delta, the whispers and calls of those who have gone before coming back up the river to contaminate the waters of the living. There is a storm out on the water, and it drives the tide higher and higher." She shuddered and he found himself wrapping his arms around her to keep her from falling over backwards.

A moment, and then she continued. "Even if the girl is wrong. If it is just panic. What would you do? Run back to your home systems? Be hunted there? Go back to the Necros? Become Lord Marshall with his gaggle of breeder pets?" She leaned back to stare at him, jaw set and eyes sad. "Or find an empty world and park your _pi gu_ there for years on end. Just…subsisting?"

He growled and pulled her closer so he could bury his face in her hair. "Who says it'd be subsisting? If I had you, had your family around; have plenty of excitement right there. Gather up every one you know and take off. Get the hell out of the way of that tide. Get to high ground before the storm hits land." He tightened his arms around her, and had the satisfaction of feeling her gasp for breath. "Done it before, on UV-6. Five fucking years I kept myself busy there. And that was alone. Think I couldn't come up with ways to keep occupied with a whole pile of people along for the ride?"

She snorted and jabbed him in the ribs. "_Hwoon dahn_. Not the point. Not about keeping occupied. About knowing you could have done something to stop it. Could have nipped trouble in the bud and didn't." Another finger in the ribs, and he snarled at her. "Not like Necros. You didn't make them come. Didn't even fight to save the universe."

Damn, there went that argument. He dropped his head to her shoulder and growled low in his throat. He was running out of options. And she was right anyways. If he ran, took her and her family and whoever she could talk into coming-and where the fuck had _that_ idea come from anyways, being Noah and not just worrying about his skin and hers?

Anyways, if he ran. If they ran, he'd be reverting to form. And something in himself, whatever part of him it was that had answered Carolyn's challenge in the first place, that part would haunt him forever. It was different than threatening to leave _Serenity_, to leave her family because they couldn't listen, refused to see her as she was. He'd lose this girl in his arms, some way, somehow. He'd be less than a man, less than a match for a girl who'd fight to stay when she was so terrified it near drover her to madness.

He'd paint himself a coward of the highest order.

She giggled, having followed his train of thought, and he growled a reply. She'd run right over the top of all his arguments. Except one. She'd dodged, but he knew it still needed to be faced. Knew it was a stopgap measure at best, but maybe he could make her see reason. Make her realize that they were still a liability, to themselves and everyone around them. No way they were getting out from under the triggers if she didn't drop this hunt and focus.

She clenched her fingers in his shirt and he could feel her nails digging into his skin. Her head was down, and her face pressed against the base of his neck. Her breath on his skin was sending fire through his veins, and he knew he had one last chance to convince her to stop before one of two things happened. She crawled out of his lap and back into that spider's web of cables, or the feel of her breasts pressing against him as she breathed drove him absolutely out of his mind.

Either way, the end result would be him losing control and the issue at hand being set aside for a far more physical form of arguing. Nice in theory. In practice, the man knew what the animal didn't. That she needed to be sure. Needed to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was right. That he wasn't just afraid to lose her to the search. He was, in the deepest part of his mind. But he was also _right_.

She'd chosen her method of torture well, and squirmed in his lap as she read the thoughts surfacing in his mind. She knew which way she wanted this to go, and the animal rumbled as she sidled up next to it and the weapon slid her hands over the shoulders of the man. Warm vanilla and musk, spices and fur. Just a hint of charcoal to leaven things out.

It took every bit of self-control he knew he didn't have for him to sit back and take her face in his hands. The animal and man were struggling, and he didn't know which one wanted to lay her out and drive himself into her and which wanted to bundle her up, haul her down to that crazy fucking ship and her crazy fucking family and beat tracks for the outer edges of the galaxy.

Somehow he managed to form words. "Make you a deal," he said, and he knew his voice was hoarse. "Can't find shit with the Cortex." He clamped a hand over her mouth before she could snap a reply, and walled his mind off against her protests. "Swim the river. The whole fucking river. You find something. Anything with a _clue_ as to where they are and I'll shut up about the whole thing." He pressed his forehead to hers and let silver eyes bored into dark. "Let you bury yourself in electronics and everyone else's brain and see what you can come up with."

Her eyes lit, anger and hope lighting up her scent and her face all at once. Time to do what he did best.

Time to crush it.

"Ain't letting you off on the triggers. You talked me into this shit. You're gonna finish it. And you are going to _focus_ on it, 'cause I know you ain't been so far." He lifted a lip in a sneer. "Getting lazy girl. Getting dependent. What the fuck makes you think I'll always be able to pull out of the triggers myself?"

Bitter herbs, steel, wet earth. Oh he was getting to her all right. She'd been slacking and she knew it. Took one good day as a sign and stopped trying half as hard from her end. Well one way or another, that stopped now. He was sick of this shit.

She'd stilled in his mind, and neither the man nor the animal was struggling any more. He leaned back and took his hand from her mouth. Slid his fingers around the back of her skull and took a fistful of hair. "You come up dry though, you drop this. Give all the equipment back to Paul and Thomas and forget you ever heard of Kyra till we're done with the triggers." She snarled at him as he shook her by the head, but he ignored it. There was a time to be gentle and there was a time to make his point. "You got me girl?"

She tried to punch him in the ribs. He blocked the strike with an elbow and slapped the follow up, an open handed jab at his throat, away and out. Her other hand lashed out, and he had to take that one in side of the head so he could keep hold of her hair with one hand and shove his other palm up under hers sternum. He blinked the stars out of his vision as she hung in his grasp and panted for air

"No third option," he leaned down to growl in her ear, ignoring the animal's frantic insistence that she'd take him apart if he let his guard down.

He waited, lips just grazing her skin, and watched in his mind as she churned through the possibilities. She'd take the deal. He knew it. It was that or stay locked in stalemate forever. Stasis was a fucking bitch to deal with, and she hated it just as much as he did.

Finally, after far too many breathes and even more heartbeats, she let out an exhale full of charcoal and steel and apples and rain. "Will have to anchor the girl," she whispered, and nipped him on the earlobe. "She will have to make the full drop. All the way gone." She twitched in his arms, and the motion of her body set his nerve endings alive. "They might not make it back."

He snorted, scraped his teeth along the outer shell of her ear, and leaned back against the headboard behind him. "Better than nothing," he muttered, and opened his mind to hers.

The lake again. The ocean. A delta. The long distance to the top of the well, walls lined in mossy stones. They floated, and he tightened his hold on her as he stared up at the shining blue sky, hard as a diamond and just as valuable to his color starved eyes. Once he was sure he had a solid hold on her, hands and arms and legs and teeth all wrapped around her body and anchoring him into her, he reached for the room. The covers on the bed, the slight damp in the air from the shower they'd shared earlier. The electric hum of the Cortex assembly. The leather of the harness he'd been building and the apples and rain, steel and faint lemons, vanilla and musk of their combined scent.

Then he took a breath, dropped his weight, and sank.

**Author's Note: ** So. Progress. Of a sort. I keep getting this mental image of Riddick with Shoulder Animal and a Shoulder Man (kind of like Kronk from _Emperor's New Groove_ with his Shoulder Angel/Devil.) It messes with the seriousness of the events. Lol.

Many, many thanks again to Shenandoah76209 for helping me out with this. Pretty much with everything from here on out. You make a great person to help bounce ideas off of! So grateful! Without you, don't know that I'd be able to finish. I know what I want to do, but it's all so finicky that my mind just paralyzes!

As always, many thanks for the reviews, favs, follows and just plain reading the fic! Love you all!

They aren't mine by the way. Although that would be really cool. They belong to other people, more's the pity.

Shenandoah76209: Hahaha. Glad you liked it. She's a pain to write, but I thought I needed to work with her a bit. I think she's struggling with Jayne. She was there when he defected after all, and part of her still struggles to trust him, even after everything he's done for the crew and for her daughter. I had him THIS CLOSE in the last chapter to being called "Da." So close. And to soon. Ah, foreboding. When have I ever let these two have more than a day to breathe?

Rachet: Glad to hear it! Glad you liked the chapter!


	54. Chapter 54

Ch. 54

_It's okay. It's okay. It's okay._

_Seasons are changing_

_And waves are crashing_

_And stars are falling all for us_

_Days grow longer and nights grow shorter_

_I can show you I'll be the one_

"Your Guardian Angel" Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

The waters closed over her head. They didn't drip. Didn't get her wet. Instead, they sounded in her ears and in her mind, echoing down through time and space as they lapped up against the walls, rebounding back with the gurgling voices of the universe around her. She caught hints of conversation, sparks of interest, glimmers of thoughts. It was enough to make her want to tear her ears off, except it wasn't her ears that were picking it all up. Not really. It was her mind, a giant catch net, and she was looking for particular fish. Fish that had eluded her time and again. After all, it wasn't as if she could set bait and make them come to her on purpose. She had to sift. Had to sort. Had to throw back fish after fish until she found what she was looking for.

Purpose. Intent. A clarity of each that stood out like a beacon.

The only problem was that many people had those things, just not about the thing she was looking for.

There was a line around her waist and shoulders, a five point harness wrapped around her like strong arms, and it gave off heat just like a body did. Like Riddick's body did. Where it was tethered on the other end she didn't know. At this point she didn't care either. She had a task. A goal. A thing to get done so she could resurface and have the answer. The answer to what came next. The explanation for the burning driving force that was urging her forwards. Ever forwards.

He _was _right. That was part of the problem. She's allowed herself to be distracted from the triggers. To lose focus. That all-consuming desperation had driven her, driven _them_, till he finally succeeded. And then, although she went into that room, still tried, the fire had been transferred. She hadn't meant for it to happen. Maybe the urgency had been there all the time, and she'd managed to ignore it only by losing herself in the trials, in him.

Not that it mattered now. Now she was hunting it. Now she was looking for the reason she felt like spiders were crawling up her back and a constrictor snake was wrapping its way around her body. She knew something was off. Somewhere. If she could only pin it down.

It seemed like an age. She was looking for research. Science relating to the human body and its DNA. Excitement. Anticipation. Curiosity and frustration. She was looking for a face. Dark eyes, dark hair, pouting lips and a scarred body. Neck scars. She was looking for someone with a puzzle to solve, a DNA sequence to unravel.

She found all of those things. She found them all together in one place. From several voices.

Wrapping her mind around the loudest of them, she clung like a mutant octopus; letting the thoughts in the mind she'd found wash over her. There was something odd about the body that they just hadn't been able to pin down. The scars on the neck had to signify _something_, but the young woman's genetic code was unlike anything he'd ever seen.

Human. Mostly. But there was something…off about it. Something they hadn't been able to decipher. Hundreds of years since they started mapping the human genome, and there were still mysteries that eluded. Quirks and kinks. Things such as the reason why some people had succumbed to the Pax and died, and others had turned into raving lunatics. No matter how many Reaver bodies they dissected and examined, nobody had been able to come up with a logical explanation for the reaction they had to the Pax.

And that was a pity. Because if they could discover why it did what it did to certain people, maybe they could control it. Maybe they could work it in their favor. The Alliance had wanted to pacify the population. That had proved disastrous. And then there had been the war. A winning war yes; but costly and long. He wasn't a bureaucrat. He wasn't in charge. But even he could see the writing on the wall. The yokels on the Rim, on the Border even. They were getting above themselves again. Getting ideas. It was the same as last time. Raids. Strikes here and there. A rise of the mob mentality.

And it would build until the people out there got it in their heads that they could actually govern themselves. They'd think they have a chance. That they'd build support. That they'd have the brains to keep themselves afloat even if they _did _manage to win a war.

Idiots. Stubborn idiots. Too dense to know what's good for them. Too stupid to realize you needed trade, an active economy, man power to stay alive as a nation. And they'd drag a war out; costing too many lives that could be better spent doing something worthwhile.

Better to end it quick. Too bad they couldn't control Reavers. Too bad they couldn't have an army of them.

Oh well. Maybe, with luck, they'd find some way to harness all that destructive energy. In the meantime, it was time to check the cultures of the mystery girl's DNA.

God he could use a smoke. But he'd had to quit. They weren't allowed outside and you definitely couldn't light up in the labs.

River felt the harness drag, felt the heat of it, and then she was back. Gasping for air, she stared at the wall across from her and tried to process the visuals. Dim light. The gaping darkness that was the open bathroom door. A heartbeat behind her, thudding like a timpani drum. Harsh breath in her ear.

And anger. Fear that wasn't fear, masquerading as blind rage. Triumph too.

Oh Riddick. He thought he'd won. She didn't have a location. Didn't even have a hint of one. None of the minds around the one she'd found had given her anything to work with. They were perfect. Absolutely absorbed in the puzzle before them. Absolutely buried in their work. They had to have known where they were. It was just that they didn't care. The Alliance, Blue Sun, whoever; they had found just the people to use. Had they done it purposely to thwart her? Or had they lucked out?

It didn't matter. She was no closer to finding out where Kyra was then she'd been before. But now; now she had her own reason to triumph. And be sick. If this was what one man thought, what did his superiors have planned? His colleagues had run along similar lines, with varying directions. If the Alliance had soldiers with minds as focused on the end goal as those scientists, they'd have themselves the perfect army

Her insides churned and she swallowed down horror as she looked for the tree and safety. Of course that's what they wanted. They just didn't realize how close they were to getting it.

She'd made it to the tree, and crawled up into to the lowest, broadest branches. He was still holding her, breath warm on her neck as the man and the animal argued along the stream bank. She drew her knees up to her chest and clutched at his arms where they wrapped around her as she tried to drag the rest of her mind from the river. It was easier when she felt bark under her hands and a rumble through her bones. Finally, when she thought she could trust her voice, she tried to speak.

All that came out was a croak.

Grumbling as she struggled to make all her limbs work, he left her on the bed, went and poured a glass of water, and let her drink it before he picked her back up and rearranged her in his lap. His back was against the headboard this time, and she sat sideways against his chest. He waited while she wormed her hands up under his shirt to cling his sides, and then tipped his head at her in question. He'd caught most of it, the general picture. It was sparking the rage that burned like slow coals beneath the surface of his mind. But he'd missed bits, little subtleties.

She braced herself. "Found them."

It was like she'd electrocuted him. She could feel him going through the memories of the swim and tried not to wonder why it was he'd gotten so much of it this time, whereas he hadn't gotten any the first time. The bond she supposed. The weeks and weeks of living inside each other's skin.

He was snarling, and the animal climbed up into the tree to growl at her. "Not good enough."

She reared back and glared at him. The weapon slid into place next to the girl, weight on the balls of her feet. There was a fight coming. It would be spectacular.

"They are close," she snapped. "Ants in the brain. Red ants. Fire ants. They think and they plan and they wish. And the answers to the puzzle are there. Four down, twelve across, seven down again! Two by two makes four by four is sixteen! Do not fill the board with rice, you will bankrupt the empire!" She dug her nails in and did_ not_ reach up to slap the look off his face. The look that said he was mad as all get out and just as smug for having won his side of the deal.

She slapped at the weapon instead, for siding with him. Whose psyche was she a part of anyways?

He shook his head and caught her by the shoulders, forcing her around to face him. "Not good enough," he said. "Did you get anything? Any_ fucking_ idea of where they are? Of where she is?" His fingers were going to leave bruises. "Did you?"

They might slip and sidle around each other. There had been monumental _kàn__cuò__s_ on either side. But they'd remained honest. He had never outright lied to her, even before they were bonded. And neither had she.

Biting her lip, she tried to dam up the rising panic and gut wrenching certainty that things were too far gone to recover. He was waiting; the animal crouched in front of the girl. The man with his hands on the weapon's shoulders. Silver eyes, heavy lidded and confident he had this in the bag. _Hwoon dahn_.

"No." She said between clenched teeth. "She did not."

He didn't gloat. Much. Relief rippled across his mind and washed away some of the smugness. She almost resisted when he cupped a hand around the back of her head and pulled her closer, but it wasn't worth the fight. They'd made a deal. She'd both succeeded and failed, but the failure was more immediately important. She allowed him to rest his lips on her forehead and sighed into his chest. Damn irritating self-righteous _wang bao dahn_.

::What was the plan anyways?:: The animal had flopped down over the branch, it's head in her lap and its tail twitching idly. ::If you found it, if we made it in?::

He had ideas of course. Blood. Mayhem. Destruction. Find Kyra and get the fuck out. It was a beautiful base plan. She'd just come up with something a little…extra.

::Kill those complicit." She was inching his shirt up, running her hands over his abdominals. Then the pectorals. ::Find Kyra.:: She shifted her legs around so she could straddle him. ::Introduce a virus to the local mainframe. An exponential algorithm that will eat their systems and spread to any others within the company, or the government.:: She bit him lightly on the collarbone, still tender from the last time she'd tried to break it, and he twitched.

::Virus?:: He was losing coherency. She could feel him hardening beneath her, filling his pants and taking blood from his brain and its functions. His hands were spread against her back, huge and warm and such a very good defense against the screaming of the Painwalkers turned Reavers she could feel through the current of time.

"Hnnn," she had his shirt up around his shoulders, and tugged to make him raise his arms so she could slip it over his head. Leaning forward, she caught his mouth with hers, and had to sway back so she could grind her hips up against his. He groaned into her mouth and followed her motion. Giving his shirt up as lost effort, she let go so she could trace her fingers down the ventral line of his body, neck to belly. ::Asked Thomas to assist. She had been working on it, but he has more experience. Knows better how to slip it in unnoticed, to keep it that way for as long as possible.::

He stopped then, his arms somehow still caught in the shirt, which was stretched behind his back, and narrowed his eyes at her. There it was again. The anger. She'd almost been rid of it, left only with the jaguar and musk and mindless arousal she craved so much. Maybe, just maybe, if she focused on him, on the triggers, on the foundation, she could hold it and her own panic at bay just a little longer.

He tried to reach for her, and was brought up short by the shirt. She snickered as he growled, and took advantage of his shortened reach to undo the snap on his pants, and then lay herself out along his legs. He snorted, but his involuntary reaction to shift his pelvis up towards her face said everything that needed to be said.

::Why not-:: he stopped as she started inching the zipper down, then gathered his fractured thoughts. ::Why not just do it from here? Make the place send out beacons. Send up flares. Lock it down and suffocate them all.:: He pushed the last out in a rush. She'd gotten the zipper open, and he'd decided underwear were an insult today. Glorious.

She nipped her way up the underside of his penis before answering, and grinned as she pressed her lips to the tip. ::Closed system. Blue Sun locked down from inside. Can't get in:: A flick of her tongue, and he rolled his hips under her. He'd made no effort to get free of the shirt, and his hands lay next to him, clenched in the bedspread.

::Only way to take down their systems,:: she wrapped her mouth around his head and felt for the divot at its base with her tongue. His hips rose again, and his hands clenched as his mind went blank.

::Have to do it from the inside,:: she whispered into the jaguar's ear.

And stopped.

Realization dawned. He was less than a microsecond behind her. The human brain really was the fastest computer in existence.

His reaction was quicker though. She was up, shoulders held captive by those huge hands, hard and angry, and there'd be bruises tomorrow. Fury flared like a supernova in his mind, and the jaguar roared in her face, blasting her with the furnace of his fear and rage. She thrashed in his grip, but he had her pinned, arms wrapped around her, and she realized he'd shredded his shirt like so much tissue in less time than it took the heart to beat. Blue light burst into being, burning her eyes.

The control he'd had.

The loss of it.

It staggered her.

"No." He didn't yell. He didn't shout or snap or even raise his voice. Instead, he made it menacing with its calm. Its very steadiness burned right through her defenses and struck her like a hammer blow. "Don't you fucking _dare_ girl." The jaguar now, more than a little bit of snarling to mar the words. "Don't even think about it, you got me." He was starting to shake as the lights grew and pulsed, faster and faster.

She ground down. She didn't have use of her hands, her legs were stuck on either side of his, and she couldn't outmuscle him. But she could torture him in other ways. She rolled her hips, bringing her center in line with his shaft and rubbing herself along its length. She could feel the damp through the thin cloth of her pants, and he caught his breath and his grip loosened just a bit. Enough for her to go slack, tip herself off the side of the bed and out of his reach. He lunged after her, but she'd scrambled up and away, snatched an ulak from the table, and held it out in front of her as she backed towards the door.

He growled as he stalked after her, lights flickering across his body and grabbing the other blade as he came. His mind assaulted hers. Denial. Anger. An absolute refusal to let her out of this room. And there, so deep she wondered if he knew it existed, was fear. Gut wrenching and complete. He feared this plan. He feared for her. He feared that if he let her even consider this as a viable option; he'd lose the fight and never see her again. Never be able to find her if she let herself get taken.

"Think," she snapped, raising the ulak between them. "They want the girl back. Have looked for _years_. They will not take her somewhere easy to find. Do not want a repeat of last time she escaped."

He stopped coming forward and started moving around to flank her. The animal was still growling, herding her away from the tree and the cave. The man held the weapon, arms around her throat in a headlock that could turn deadly just as quick as he wanted.

"Bonded," She said. "Matched. Linked. You _would _be able to find the girl." She put every ounce of conviction she could muster into her voice. He had to see. Had to understand. He did. He was right after all. No one could find anything on the Cortex. This was the only way. Stepping forward, she lowered her weapon and slid inside his guard. He stared down at her, eyes hot and fury in every line of his face.

She shoved conviction, determination, and every bit of certainty she could manage in his direction. He bowed his head as they hit him, and she saw the muscles in his jaw worked as he clenched his teeth. She could feel the struggle in him, and he trembled where he stood as he fought the knowledge. He fought it with everything he had, and she could feel his mind churn, boil and writhe as he tried to find a way out. Just as he'd known he was right about her and her futile hunt through the Cortex, she knew she was right on this. Going in was the only way. And she was the biggest piece of bait around.

She ran her hand up his chest and cupped his jaw, watching the light beneath his skin play through her fingers, feeling his heart beat like a drum through the artery in his neck and the muscles and tendons strain. She smiled up at him, and tried to keep the tears from rising. "It is the only way. Only way to find her. Only way to stop the march and the feed and the rampage through the systems. The only way to get the ants from the brain, the spiders from their webs in her mind."

She raised herself on tiptoe and pulled his head down to kiss him. The fear was rising in her now, terror at the thought of what she was planning. She focused on her conviction instead. There was nothing to do about the fear. It was there to stay. But she could work around it. She had for years.

Something in his mind shifted. Settled. Hardened. His thoughts snapped into place and he met her kiss with the hunger of a starved man. One handed, he wrapped an arm around her ribs and lifted, and she came to rest with her legs around his waist. His mind moved in hers, probing, seeking, and she opened to it. Let him see. He knew she'd tried everything she could think of. This was the only option left to them. The only way.

The sound of millions of marching feet. The screams of the people they drove before them like cattle. The stars were red with the blood of billions. Their ships displayed their latest trophies. The heads of the Heads of State lined portholes. The bodies of children framed the forward viewports.

He pulled away, and she gasped for air as he met her gaze with those hard silver eyes. "No," he growled, and kissed her again before she could protest. This time he opened his mind to hers and shoved his thoughts in her direction. They were like diamonds, hard and clear. She lost herself in the rain of them and in the feel of his lips on hers. He was saying no to her going alone. No to her being the bait.

Better they both go in, break out from the inside.

Better they get this done without endangering her family, because he _knew_ they'd go after her and if they didn't try and kill him for letting her go, they'd get themselves killed to get her out. Either way, they'd likely end up dead. And he wasn't willing to deal with that. Wasn't willing to deal with the fallout. But if they went together, told her family they'd be back. Got Paul and Thomas to give them as much information as they could on the inner workings of Blue Sun, they had a chance. After all, there wasn't a prison built that could hold him.

He'd dropped his ulak, and pried hers from her hand. Now he was working his mouth down her neck, hands under her _pi gu_ and kneading at the muscle there like a cat. She writhed, feeling his pants loosen further. He'd left them unzipped when he went after her, and they were starting to fall off completely. She squirmed harder, and they dropped. He stopped, pulled back, and glared at her.

She grinned up at him and ground her hips against the length of his shaft. He grumbled, hitched her closer, and kicked out of the pile of cloth puddled around his feet. Luckily, he hadn't gotten around to boots yet. When he tried to come back and recapture her mouth, she leaned away.

He growled, and she laid a finger to his lips. "Ok," she whispered, and kissed his jaw. "Your plan is better." She kissed him again.

He tilted his head and bit gently at her finger, running his tongue up to the tip before letting her go. She felt her eyes glaze and her legs loosen.

"Alright then," he murmured, dipping his head to take the base of her neck in his teeth. She was swimming in blue, the lights having calmed some now that he'd decided. He was still angry with her, still furious that she'd even considered leaving him like that. But the animal had stopped blocking the tree, and the man was running careful fingers down the sides of the weapon. Metal softened and ran over his hands and she melted into his mind. She had enough consciousness left to understand when he chuckled and shoved a thought her way.

She could wait till they were done with the triggers. He was still right on that. And if they were both to be going in, it was even more important that they had them beat. After all, they didn't need Blue Sun knowing they now had _two_ mind controlled assassins.

And then she lost herself to the touch of his skin against hers, his lips on her body, his hands as they worked her clothes off. And then all she felt was his mind, wrapped around hers, covering her in the foundation, burning her to the core as she screamed and came beneath him and he roared and shuddered and spent himself inside her.

And then she knew nothing else.

`~HHYFN~

It took a few hours for Inara to really start to wonder. When she ate breakfast alone, instead of with the Jayne and Riddick and River, she thought that the gun hand had slept in, and Riddick and River were taking advantage of the need to rebuild the training room to hole up in their quarters. It was generally hit or miss as to whether they'd come to the breakfast room in the first place, but they'd shown up more often than not as of late. When Riddick never appeared to bully the cook into giving him some food, she started to worry. Lunchtime neared and neither of them had emerged to let the Operatives know they were ready for another session. She went hunting.

That's when she realized. She had talked to neither Paul nor Thomas at all this morning. Not unusual to be sure, but she generally at least caught a glimpse of one or the other down a hall or around a corner. What in the 'Verse could be going on?

She found out quickly. Upon knocking on their door, she was more than a little startled to hear Jayne's voice from the other side. On opening it, she was even more surprised to find the lights brighter than she'd ever seen them in this room and Jayne half kneeling by the edge of the bed. Sitting in front of him, draped awkwardly in a sheet with her bare legs sticking out was River. Her face was slack, her eyes staring into the distance, and she shook and trembled like a small earthquake was going off inside her. Her hands were wrapped around Jayne's and her knuckles and fingers were dead white. She was gasping, like a fish out of water, and her face glistened with tears.

Inara took an involuntary step forward, and saw Thomas sitting on the couch nearby, elbows braced on his knees and fingers steepled beneath his chin. His expression was blank, and only his good eye showed any life as he watched the girl on the bed. She wanted to slap him, to make him look up and tell her what was going on. But River was more important now.

She was next to the bed before she knew it, and knelt next to Jayne to look up into the girl's face. If River knew she was there, she gave no indication. But she flinched away when the Companion reached up to brush a stray bit of hair from her face.

"Jayne," Inara said carefully. "What. Happened."

She'd never seen that look on his face. Not the mix of anger and sorrow and fear that made his eyes burn through hers as he turned to look at her. His jaw clenched, muscles working as he inhaled through his nose. He opened his mouth, looked up at River again, and snapped his teeth together with a click. Tried again. Still no words.

Alright then.

Inara touched River's hand, and another shudder ran through the girl. "River," she asked, and projected as much calm as she could in the girl's direction.

Another moment. River swallowed, opened her mouth, and wailed.

"He left without me!"

**Author's Note: ** Thanks ever so to everyone who is reading, faving, following and REVIEWING! Love you all!

These people, these characters and their surroundings? Not mine. So sad. Soooo sad. Guess I'll have to go watch Riddick and make myself happy again!

Shenandoah76209: Yeah. Jayne's kind of…gotten away from me. I really wasn't planning this little side romance thing when I started. Dunno though. Think he's kind of conflicted, cause I get the feeling he remembers how jealous Wash was. And you're more than a rubber wall. You're very helpful! I have Bible verses and random movie quotes that keep wanting to put themselves in here, but my mind runs too many rabbit trails. Evil plot bunnies!

Rachet: The deal was that either way, they'd finish the triggers. But if she DIDN'T find anything, then she had to give up on finding Kyra through the Cortex until the triggers were done. If she DID find something, Riddick would let her do whatever with the hunt for Kyra, so long as she applied herself to getting the triggers done.

: Glad you liked them! Zoe was tough to get to cooperate. Glad you liked her!

Translations:

_k__à__n__cu__ò__s_ -a mistake **/** an oversight **/** an error of judgment )

_Hwoon dahn-_ bastard/ son of a bitch

_wang bao dahn- _dirty bastard

_pi gu_ - ass


	55. Chapter 55

Ch. 55

_Fear can drive stick_

_And it's taking me down this road_

_A road down which_

_I swore I'd never go_

_And here I sit_

_Thinking of God knows what_

_Afraid to admit_

_I might self-destruct_

"Devastation and Reform" Relient K

He made it out of Mik-lat fairly easily. He knew where the Operatives slept after all, and had woken first one and then the other and explained his plan. At the tip of a blade. It had taken less work than he'd thought to convince them that someone needed to get into Blue Sun and send up a flare from the inside. It had taken a sound beating for both of them to make his point as to letting River know what he was doing. He'd ended up leaving Thomas tied up and gagged in his room and frog marching Paul up to the hangars that were hidden up in the very top of the mountain.

Much harder had been actually _making_ himself leave. While Paul had chosen a ship and gotten it ready, he'd fought an internal war. Everything in him had screamed against this course of action. Everything in him had screamed even _louder_ at the idea of letting River walk herself back into that hellhole with eyes wide open. That was what he'd used to beat the animal down. The image of her back in one of those chairs, needles in her head and Doctors shooting her full of drugs and cutting her skull open while he had to stand by; waiting for the right moment to blow the place apart.

The image and the knowledge that having gotten the girl back in their grasp, security would clamp down tighter than a vacuum seal and their chances of making it out would be considerably worse than a snowball's chance in Hell. They'd do anything to keep her, and if it meant drugging them both down to a coma they'd do it. He knew it, deep in his gut. It was the way places like that worked. Fuck, if he'd ever shown more than the advanced strength his Furyan heritage gave him, the Company would have bundled him up the minute he set foot out of the mines and tossed him in his own little lab cell. That no one had ever figured out that cryo didn't work on him had been both a hellish curse and tremendous blessing, on more than one occasion.

The internal struggle had nearly immobilized him though, and he'd finally resorted to taking the animal and stuffing it back down in the hole. With it went every doubt, second guess, and fear he had that this plan wouldn't work. Every moment he spent arguing with himself was another moment closer to losing the barrier, the wall he'd set up between himself and River. It was the only thing that had kept her from knowing he lied when he said they'd both go. It was the only thing keeping her from waking up and following him like some sort of avenging goddess. If he made it back alive, if he got in and managed to get back out again, he fully expected her to skin him alive. And then to slice him up and roast him like the strips of meat they kept offering him in this place. And she'd manage to keep him breathing for the whole process.

And he'd let her. He deserved it after all.

But that was assuming he'd manage to pick the right target. That he'd manage to be just enough of an oddity that they'd want to keep him alive and examine him and not so much of a threat that they'd shoot him on sight and dissect him instead.

Which was the main reason he needed Paul, fuck it all anyways. Thomas was too noticeable, what with the eye and the hand, and he himself didn't have enough insider knowledge to know who to pick. Once he'd gotten his man though, the Operative could go fuck himself for all he cared. Maybe he'd rig something on the ship before they left it, so that when he tried to take off, he'd get blown to kingdom come. After all, no Paul meant no one the authorities could track back to Sihnon.

This close to White Sun itself, nothing was further than a two day trip between planets. They spent the time glued to the Cortex. Riddick wrung every drop of information from the man he could manage without resorting to torture. He didn't need it. They were committed, and Paul knew there was only going to be one ending to this anyways. He could help Riddick find the right person to drop off a building, or the Furyan would set down on Londinium and proceed to massacre every government official he could reach. One person with connections or several hundred who may or may not be able to get him into the right facility? Add to that the fact that he'd probably die in the process and the decision wasn't really a decision at all.

They settled on Osiris, and something had glinted in Paul's eyes when they finally laid in their course. Riddick had snorted and gone back to the tiny galley. He knew the significance. He knew her family was still there. He stuffed the animal a little further down the hole, reinforced the wall of flame between him and the girl, and did his best not to snap the neck off the bottle of whiskey he'd dug out of a cupboard.

He wasn't drinking it. He needed his control to stay in place. But it gave him something to do with his hands, and the sharp fumes chased the remembered smell of apples and rain, vanilla and every other scent River had ever carried out of his nose. He'd refused to run his clothes through the cleaner, and as sentimental a bit of weakness as it was, slept with his pants under his pillow. They were the same pair she'd been dragging off him that last night, and the residual smells of warm vanilla, spiced musk and sex on them helped ground his mind in the reality of what needed doing. The animal raged in its hole, and the man raged back. This was the only way. Fuck it all to hell and back, this was the only way to keep her safe.

Three days crawling around the Capitol City on a planet full of rich dickwads and he had his target. Slipping out of the blackout zone they'd made camp in and out into the light, Riddick had made himself comfortable on the lowest level of a fire escape while he checked his gear. It had taken a bit of doing to get it all together; and Paul had been in charge of a good deal of the acquisitions. At least the ones made out among the bright and happy.

Riddick had taken care of replacing the blades he'd had to ditch to make it through customs. Fuckers here didn't like people with weapons on their planet, and they did _not_ like the way he'd looked. He'd almost been caught, right there at the starting gate, and he doubted very highly that it was blind luck or his attempt at looking non-threatening that had gotten him through customs and out of the spaceport.

He figured that whoever had the scans of his face must be fairly high up the ladder. No other way the description of a dark skinned man with goggles who'd killed two people on a skyplex and then tore up a bar on a planet in a different system wouldn't have made every law enforcement bulletin board in this fucked up 'Verse. He was distinctive. Memorable. If there wasn't a file with his picture and their variation of "Classified" with his name on it somewhere, then he was an Elemental.

It was what he was betting on really. That they had a file on him, attached to the one on River. And that they were being much more careful about their hunt this time around. They'd start by looking for whoever landed on this planet with him, try and figure out where he'd holed up, and then proceed to pin him down. The people here, the ones who lived in civilization, they were blind as fucking bats to those around them. You could move a full company of covert ops types through the streets here in plainclothes and surround a blackout zone in a matter of hours without a single civilian noticing a thing.

Good thing for him he was good at vanishing. He'd taken to the underground refuse systems with a map and Paul had done a damned good impression of a shadow on the ship until the shift change gave him an opening to get out of the spaceport. This wasn't Sihnon after all. Any ties the man had with the criminal organizations here would be tenuous at best, and if the two were caught on camera anywhere in each other's vicinity, the whole plan was fucked. Hell, the whole Organization Paul worked for was fucked. And then it wouldn't matter _who_ he decided to dangle off a rooftop, because every single one of them would end up caught.

River.

No.

He'd shoved every thought of her even further into the cave, into the hole, and sealed them off. And then he'd sat in the dark of a ruined building for five hours and shook like hype needing his next fix as the fire seared its way back to the surface and the animal raged inside him. He'd just about killed Paul when he returned. If he'd had any doubts as to the man's fighting ability before, the fact that he managed to survive nearly having his arms ripped off and his heart almost pulled out through his chest was a testament to whatever training he'd been given.

The look in his eyes though, when he'd finally picked himself off the floor and leaned over to give Riddick a hand in standing; that was a look he'd remember for a long time. He had to get this done. Get in. Get out. Get back. Because he was already reverting. He could feel it crawling up his spine. And while in the normal course of things he wouldn't mind going apeshit and butchering everyone in sight, he had a job to do. He'd need his brain and every ounce of control he could manage to get it done.

Just get in the fucking lab Riddick. Just make it there.

It was dark and raining the night they finally made their move. Water flowed down the curved glass sides of the building above him. Paul was perched on another tower, scope set up and body prone behind it. He had no gun though, at least not a sniper set up. This was surveillance only. Nobody could know how much help he'd had in choosing this target. In finding the room he'd be in tonight. No wires, no backup, no hidden cameras. It was too much of a risk of he fucked this up. There would be no rescue. He'd do this thing or he wouldn't.

Sitting there between the shadowed remains of the last blacked out skyscraper and the first intact monument of civilization, Riddick checked over his arsenal. Three shivs tucked into his belt and boots, a couple of local made throwing knives, a big Bowie that he'd stolen from a drunk passed out in an alley and a short sword strapped to his back. The last he'd had to rewrap the hilt, rub it with grime and oil and gone hunting in the depths of the blackout zones for those he knew had turned more animal than human. Three rapists and an abusive john later and he'd manage to cover the thing in enough blood to pass as a Reaver weapon. Two smaller handguns sat in holsters on either leg, but he didn't plan to use those. If it came to that, he'd screwed this up even worse than he'd thought possible.

One last moment to try not to think of apples as he smelled the rain in the air, a breath to steel himself and he pulled down his goggles and stalked off down the street. The building he wanted was three blocks away, and he slipped up to it from an alley, right behind the guards stationed at the corner. No sweet spot this time. A quick jab and the blade slid in between the vertebra at the base of the skull as neat as you please. He shoved the memory of a lithe body landing on the backs of the Necros and riding them to the floor with her knife in their necks back down in the hole and moved on.

He didn't bother trying the locks on the doors. They were glass. The whole fucking building was made of glass.

Stupid fuckers. Living safe and comfortable in their fucking glass houses. He was going tear them down around their ears. Let them know fear.

The animal _craved_ the scent of it.

Glass crunching under his feet, he sprinted for the stairs. Two at a time he ran up them. Ten floors. Fifteen. At twenty he stopped, slipped out into the hall, and raised his goggles. The lights were dim, only the exit signs at either end of the hall to mar his vision. Those, and a strip of light under a door at the far end.

Cat quiet, he slipped up and laid his ear to the wood. Breathing. A heartbeat. Fingers on a keyboard. Either nobody knew the man was up here, working late, or Security would focus on finding an intruder before alerting anyone else who might be present.

Either way, he won. So long as he could keep his temper. So long as he could keep the mental images of River strapped in that chair and whimpering out of his head, he'd be fine. He could do this. He _could_. He was Richard B. fucking Riddick after all. Escaped convict, murderer, Lord Marshal. Matched and bonded to a girl who'd clawed her way out of insanity and back into some form of coherent thought. Same as he had.

Except the blood that came with his form of lunacy tasted so much better than the salt of tears.

He should have dug up a bottle of Schnapps and brought it along.

Pausing just long enough to make sure the man inside hadn't gotten up and moved around, taking a second to grab onto the rage seeping out of the animal's hole and forge it into determination; he stepped back and snapped his foot out. The door bounced off the wall behind it and then he was through. A pale throat was under his hand, pulse beating a frantic tattoo against his palm as he picked the man up and threw him across the room.

"Where is my sister," he roared, and ripped his goggles off. The lights burned eyes, but it was more important that this man see the shine. The man scrambled backwards like a crab, but there was nowhere to go. Riddick picked him up and tossed him back towards his desk. There should be a panic button there. Come on you sick fuck. Panic.

Lemons filled the air. They burned their way up his nose and into his brain, searing it and bringing things into focus. He was awake and most definitely alive, and it was a glorious feeling. The animal roared a protest inside, saying he'd lost his need for it lately, but he ignored it. Give it a minute. It would remember how great it felt to be surrounded by this scent. Maybe even enough to forget apples and rain and vanilla.

The man had managed to get to his feet and Riddick let him lurch for the button installed on the bottom of the desk before lunging forward and grabbing him by the shirt collar. He lifted the man up to eye level and blood welled through the fabric as and set the tip of a shiv just under the ribcage. It wouldn't be a killing strike. Not yet. This fucker was going to know pain first.

"Where," he snarled in the man's face. "Where is my sister?"

Urine. It mixed oddly with lemons. Familiar and sour all together. Time to back off a bit. The guy needed to be thinking, calculating. Not out of his mind with fear.

Riddick dropped him on the desk and set the edge of the shiv to the jugular. The man was babbling, high and frantic. Only a minute or so left to make the first impression. "My sister," he growled again. "So high," he held out the shiv hand before bringing it back to the man's neck. "Dark hair. Pale skin." He leaned in a little closer. "Dead."

That got the man's attention, and some of the lemons faded. Riddick was a slightly disappointed. So long as his brain was full of the man's fear, there wasn't much room to wish for apples and rain or steel and cool water. He let a grin crawl its way across his face and hauled the man back up to eye level. "You heard me you sick fuck. She's dead. Had her in cryo and was look'n for a place to bury her." He tilted his head and traced the line of the carotid. "Got stuck on a ship with some freak bitch and lost her in the mess."

Down the neck, hover over the bobbing Adam's apple a moment, and then on to the ribs. Almost lovingly, he moved from sweet spot to sweet spot. Could go between the ribs, get the heart. Could go in up under the sternum too. Not as quick that way. Get the lungs instead. Bastard might live long enough to tell his story that way.

"Bitch was an ok lay." He shrugged. "Wrong in the head though." The animal was screaming its rage and insult, and he fed it into the wall of fire that was cutting him off from River. He could do this. He just had to not be thinking so much. "Had this idea, your company got ahold of my sister. Seemed to think they'd try and decode her DNA for some fucked up shit reason." The tip of the shiv took up residence at the man's navel. Gut wounds were the worst. Painful. Agonizing. Perfect. He pressed a little harder and blood and fresh lemons filled the air. The man was still babbling, begging, but he ignored him. He had a point to make after all.

"Tossed the girl an' her crew out the airlock first chance I got. Annoying fuckers." He pressed a little harder and started dragging the blade across the stomach. "But I figure what the hell, start with you. Cut my way through this place till I find someone who can tell me who I need to kill to get her back." He leaned in, right in the man's ear. Feet were pounding up the stairs, and men were exchanging the quiet commands that meant they were going to try and sneak up on him. Hmmm. Rent-a-cops must have decided coming up here themselves wasn't smart gone and straight for the badges.

Good choice.

Better not give them a reason to come in firing.

Time this right you fucking bastard. Make it all worthwhile. Be alive for her skin and torture at the end of all this.

He moved the blade back up to the man's neck and gave him another slow smile. The lemons bloomed further, and the stench of urine got stronger. Fucking pussy. No wonder he was riding a desk. Didn't have the balls to step up and do his own dirty work. All high on his power trip when it was a scared girl strapped into a chair or in a coma but give him a _real _threat? Fucker folded.

Riddick nearly spat in disgust, trying to clear his mouth of the taste of the bad air, but the troops had arrived and were about to come running through that door he'd left wide open. The animal was screaming for blood, raging and willing to vent its anger on anyone who got close. This motherfucker was off limits. Maybe it could take out a couple of the idiots who thought they could move quietly in whatever passed for tactical gear on this shithole of a planet.

Dark eyes, pale face. Dark hair through his fingers. Bruises he'd given and bruises he'd gotten. Her lips, cracked and bleeding as she shrieked her insanity to the padded walls around her.

Never again. Not if he could help it. Pull it in Riddick. You're in control, they just don't know it.

One swift strike later and the desk jockey was out cold. The men outside came around the door in a rush, yelling in Common and Chinese for him to put his hands up, hands up where they could see them.

Riddick snorted and dropped the blade, raised his hands and shrugged. "Fine then. This fat fuck couldn't tell me where my sister is; maybe you can find me someone who can."

~HHYFN~

He'd need a new identity if he lived through this. The whole works. Right down to a DNA profile. They took everything they could get from him, barring a retinal scan. Three maimed and two dead later and they got the idea that shining a laser in his eyes wasn't the smartest of ideas. The fact that he'd done all that damage half blind, trusting his nose and ears to place the people around him as he snapped necks and wrenched shoulders out of sockets; that more than anything seemed to impress them. Their curiosity was almost palpable, rolling off them in waves as they dimmed the lights slightly to get a better look at the silver gleam.

He'd stood, waiting and trying to get a handle on his temper. Trying to keep the animal from crawling out of that hole and leaving the place a smoking wreck as he tore his way free. Out of here, out to open air. To space, the Black, and back to-

No. Not happening. He was here for a reason; and he used that logic to tamp the claws and snarling teeth back down into the dark and seal up the lid. It gave the people around him enough time to decide that he'd wasn't going to lose it again, and he could almost feel them deciding that so long as they didn't make any overly aggressive moves, he wouldn't answer in kind.

These fucking badges were a special kind of stupid.

The local authorities had been forced to hand him over fairly quickly, almost as soon as they got done processing him, and the new ones walked quieter and spoke more firmly. Certainty and arrogance rolled off them in waves, and he inhaled, marking individual scents and placing them in his memory. If he got any sort of chance, they'd be the next set of breadcrumbs he'd drop along his trail, marking the way to wherever he'd been taken.

One of the men watched him while the other talked to the badges, and soon enough he was on his way. They'd given him is goggles back, after he'd made a point of stumbling and wincing and giving off all the other usual reactions to light too bright for the eyes to handle. Interest sparked around him, and the two who were taking custody of him exchanged a look as they waved their goons into the room to surround him. He'd followed them with his ears, turning only his head as he tracked them, and snorted as he rolled his shoulders before allowing them to cuff his wrists behind his back. The animal snarled, beating at the lid of its hole, and he took the residual rage and fed it into the wall of fire.

Three hours and a good nap later and they'd arrived. Out of the transport, into a hangar, and down a long hall that reeked of rubber, fear and dust. Ten guards. The two in charge. A few more people behind the doors they were passing. It was late or early, depending on how you looked at it. But there should have been more. Odd that. Maybe he'd lucked out first try. Looked like Paul had picked the right guy.

"Lemme guess," he said as the door to the small room he'd been guided into slid shut. "Secure holding, rigorous interrogation, a bit of threatening me with charges." He turned to look at the four who'd come in with him. Two guards in tactical gear, two in suits. No unease. Curiosity from the suits. Their bodies were betraying those blank faces. They were interested, and wanted to know what he had to say almost more than they wanted anything else at the moment.

He chuckled and took a seat, laying his cuffed hands out on the table in front of him. That got their attention. That's right you fucks. Ask yourselves when I pulled that off. "Problem with that plan," he said as he leaned back and sprawled his feet out in front of him. "Is that I don't give a fuck. I'm interested in one thing. Someone in this place knows where my sister's body is. I want her back."

The two exchanged looks, then sat. But it was too late. They'd lost the initiative, and everything they did from here on out would be reactionary. The animal was rumbling. The man ignored it. He was more worried about the wall of fire, thinned during the nap he'd taken. Keeping it up and strong while messing with the minds of the two in front of him was like fighting a full-fledged war at long distances while dealing with the mercs at close range. Every instinct he had screamed at him to just kill them all, cut them down and keep on going. He was back in chains. Locked up. And that was never a good position to be in.

He shoved the animal's protests aside. This was where he needed to be.

"What makes you think we'd know where your sister is," the one who spoke was lean, hands soft and face lacking the harshness that years of life in open elements would have given him. He was trying to mimic Riddick's relaxed pose, and failing horrible.

Riddick shrugged. "Got some interesting stories out of the girl, 'fore I stuck her out the airlock." He showed his teeth again "Never underestimate the things a woman will tell you for a good fuck. Or after even." He shifted, dropping his hands to his lap so he could work the key in one of his leg pockets out and fiddle with it between his fingers. The men couldn't see it, hidden by the table as it was, and the guards at the door where standing at the wrong angle. "Anyways, she'd go on about this Blue Sun place. An Academy. Said they'd cut open her brain. Done things to her. Crazy fuckin' shit."

The men looked at each other, and now wary apprehension entered their scent signatures. Jackpot. They'd reek of confusion if they hadn't known what he was talking about. But they didn't know he could smell them, and so they tried to bluff. The second man sat forward, rigid where his partner tried to be relaxed. "Interesting story Mr.…?"

He'd left all his ID papers with Paul. All they had to go on were the security vids from the skyplex and Persephone. He shrugged and held up his hands, still cuffed. "Richards is fine."

The man nodded. "Mr. Richards then. As I said, an interesting story. I'm curious though, as to why you'd believe anything she told you. After all," he sat back, confidence in every line of his body. "The idea of lobotomizing a girl, of a hidden Academy. It is, as you said, crazy."

Riddick didn't bother trying to raise his eyebrows. With the goggles in the way, they wouldn't get the point and it was too much wasted effort. Instead he stood, pacing around the table and pretending to get a good look at the guards by the door. They shifted, tracking him with their bodies. The fucks in the suits may be underestimating him, but the guards knew dangerous when they saw it. Too bad they didn't know what they had in the room with them.

He paused to take a deep breath, get another read on the men, and to shore up his defenses again. The walls were eroding as fast as he put them up and if River wasn't on the other side trying to break her way through then he'd eat his own hand. No way was she taking this lying down. If she got through before he was ready, before she found him in the flesh, he had no trouble with the idea that she'd flay his mind just as surely as she'd flay his body.

In its hole, the animal banged on the lid, and some of its rage started to seep out. He fed it back into the flames.

"Only one problem with that," he said finally, just as they guards really started to look like they'd try something. The men at the table looked at each other. "It is a crazy idea." He turned to look at them. "But your scent? Your body language?" He stalked over so he could brace his hands on the table and lean down to meet their eyes through the goggles. "They all say you know what I'm talkin' about."

Surprise. Shock, even. More unease, curling its way up his nose and into his brain and setting the animal afire. The man took the emotion, the sudden triumph, and used it for himself. "If ya ain't noticed yet, my sister didn't exactly read baseline human."

The men looked at each other, confusion plain on their faces. Riddick grinned. "Matter of fact," a twist and a flick and he popped the cuffs open. He tossed first the key, then the cuffs themselves on the table. "Neither am I."

And he proceeded to show them just how far from human he could be.

**Author's Note: **Seems I blindsided you all in the last chapter. Good. That's what's I was planning. And Riddick, you've got yourself in deep huh? Smart man. Maybe. Guess we'll just have to see won't we?

Who went to the new movie? Anyone? I think I'm in love! Gotta drag my husband there next week!

Thanks so much for all the reads and reviews, favs and follows. Love you all! And as always, they aren't mine. Fiddlesticks.

: Glad you liked! Glad I got to surprise you too!

Shenandoah76209: LOL. Yeah. I told you, but I'm glad the circumstances caught you by surprise. I was worried I was giving too many hints, to everyone. I've heard that song too. Was thinking of using it was one of the header clips. Hrmmm. I'll have to see if I can fit it in anywhere. So many options, so few chapters left!

Rachet: Guess we'll have to wait and find out what the crew thinks. Not sure they'll like it much. But yeah, I couldn't see him doing anything else either. Good to know he's predictable huh?

Guineverekay: Well, I think he's trying to be noble. But mainly I think he panicked. Can't blame the guy really. Lol. Jayne. Sorry. I think he's got his sights set on Zoe. Poor guy's just not used to being the clingee. XD Ah life. I know what you mean. She's getting in the way of new chapters with disturbing regularity lately.


	56. Chapter 56

Ch. 56

_Cut strings, you think too much_

_I can't wait this long for a rush _

_A misery to be alone_

_How'd you want to be the lonely one?_

_Howl – So that the angels can hear you_

"Howl" Beware of Darkness

They'd managed to get River into some clothes. Just a simple shift girl had barely stayed upright for the procedure. Inara had had to lift her arms to put them through the sleeves, and then she had swayed in place as the Companion worked the dress over her shoulders. An extremely embarrassed Jayne had been roped into picking her up so they could get skirt past her waist. Inara had pretty much decided with herself that if it hadn't been for the vacant look in the young woman's eyes, coupled with the panting of her breath as she quivered in the big gun hand's grasp; he probably would have dropped her outright. But he set her down gently enough, and Inara had to help him pry the girl's fingers loose where she'd wrapped them around his wrists. She had a grip, to be sure, but it seemed less as if she was clinging to him specifically and more as if she was looking for someone, anyone, to anchor her in reality.

It was a full day and half before anyone could leave the mountain. A day and a half of worry, anger, and tempers strained to the breaking point. At first they'd argued about what to do. Thomas had told them that at this point cleaning up Riddick's trail was far more important than letting Mal know what had happened.

The big man had left during the tail end of the last window, whether by chance or design the Operative didn't know. But there were still the vidscans of him in the main city, evidence that he'd been with River there. Inara couldn't get the former Operative to explain any further than that, and Jayne had been reduced to sputtering curses in such a mix of Chinese and English that it was a wonder he managed to put together a full sentence.

Thomas had left them then, jaw set and face determined as he headed for the bowels of the complex. He had work to do. It was all he'd say. That and the fact that and he was going to be cutting all outside lines of communication. Don't bother to wave Mal; don't look for news on the Cortex. They would be bringing everyone in during the next window and then going on full lockdown. No amount of yelling or threatening on the part of either of the others could change his mind.

Jayne finally threw his hands up and stalked off, still yelling about _go se_ Operatives and their

_ta ma de_ superiority complexes. She lost track of the rest of the tirade as he turned a corner and vanished from sight, but it didn't take much to guess at how it continued.

For her part, she paced the hall for a few minutes; indulging in her own fit of rage and a quieter, though no less venomous, spate of curses. Damn the man! Damn him for leaving without a word. For leaving River like that. How could she have misjudged him so badly? How could he have pulled the wool over their eyes so thoroughly?

A small voice whispered that she didn't know _why_ Riddick had left. Only that he was gone. Thomas had refused to explain until they had everyone gathered, and while she could see the logic in that, it didn't make her any more inclined to think favorably of the self-professed murderer. _Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze__!_ And then there was River herself. What had she said that morning? He'd left _without_ her? What in the 'Verse could that mean? Had they both been planning to leave? But why would they do that? There were still the triggers to finish. They wouldn't throw all the work, all the agony of the past few weeks away on a whim. Even if Riddick had turned out to be the worst sort of _shee_**-**_niou_ producing ass, he had never come across as a man willing to back down from a fight. So what was it? What had lit the fire under him that sent who knew where for who knew what?

Well, River probably knew. Maybe, just maybe, she could get the girl to tell her something. Anything. Some clue she could use to head her husband off at the pass when he heard about this. Because she really, really, really didn't want to be Riddick when an enraged Malcolm Reynolds caught up to him. Knives wouldn't do him any good against guns, and Jayne's attitudes aside, there was no better man behind the scope of a sniper rifle.

Thoughts still spinning, she made her way to River and Riddick, no…_River's_ room. There was no answer when she tapped on the door, but she could hear the soft twang of a guitar and knew what had happened to Jayne. Pushing open the door, she stood for a moment while her eyes adjusted to the light. They'd tried to brighten the room earlier, and River had pitched a spectacular fit. Maybe she'd been living in dim light and pitch blackness so long, what with Riddick's eyes to account for, that true light hurt. Maybe it was a comfort mechanism, as if he couldn't really be gone if their room was still darkened.

Maybe she was just trying to hide.

Jayne was sprawled on the couch, half empty bottle of whiskey on a coffee table in front of him and the guitar in his lap. The tiger striped wood gleamed, and his fingers played in and out of the strip of light coming through the door behind her. He was watching River, eyes hard and him mouth set in a grim line. The girl herself knelt on the bed, knees wide, sheets and blankets still a rumpled pile around her. Her head was bowed and her hands twitched before her on loose wrists. As Inara watched, the girl dipped the fingers of one hand beneath her dress, between her legs, and drew them out again a moment later. Something dark glinted wetly, and the Companion became aware of a familiar smell. Coppery and old.

On the couch, Jayne had squeezed his eyes shut and was groping blindly for the whiskey . His face was turning colors, and he was about to tip the bottle over. Inara crossed the space between them, snatched it up, and tipped the thing back. Fire burned down her throat and her blood rushed in her ears, drowning out Jayne's croak of protest. She brought the bottle back down just in time to see River reach between her legs again, and it took everything she had not to throw the thing. At the girl. At Jayne. At the wall. Someone. Anything. She didn't know if it was River's face, broken and vacant as she stared at the menstrual blood she'd started to run up the scar on her arm; or if it was the blind rage sparked by the thought of the man who'd done this to their girl.

Another swig of whiskey, and she stood, gasping hoarsely as Jayne set aside the guitar and approached her. Carefully. Like he was trying to approach a wild animal. One large hand wrapped around hers on the bottle, the other reached for the fist clenched at her side.

"Easy now," he murmured in the gentlest voice ever she'd heard him use. "Easy. C'mon 'Nara." He sidled up next to her, hand at the base of her spine, and freed the whiskey bottle from her grip. "Jus' sit down."

On the bed, River whimpered. Jayne stiffened. Inara flinched. When the girl didn't make any more noise, the Companion sighed and allowed herself to be guided to the couch. Jayne made sure she was comfortable, set the bottle over on the table, and came back. He wasn't looking at River. In fact, he was treating her almost as if she didn't exist. Tension sang through every line of his body, and his grip on the guitar when he picked it up again was white knuckled. Inara wondered how he did it. What was going through his head? What had possessed him to set up camp in the same room as a deranged psychic?

A laugh. High and lunatic. Inara's head snapped around and Jayne missed his fingering on the frets. River had doubled over on the bed, bloody hands wrapped around herself as she stared at them and giggled. It was a sound like none the Companion had ever heard, and the eerie ringing of it sent lances of ice up her spine.

"Knows," the girl sputtered between giggles. "Knows there is no hiding. No hiding. His fishes are sharks and they hunt her through the waters. Lurk, lurk, lurk" Her fingers danced in front of her. "So why hide? Be honest. Be truthful." River grinned at Jayne, then clapped her bloody hands to her cheeks and tipped her head to the side. "She is _fong luh_ after all. Sanity gone." She waved at them like a child. "Buh-bye_. __Chéng__méng__guān__zhào_!"

Inara shuddered, pressed her lips together, and tipped back her head to stare at the gloom wrapped ceiling. The girl had a point. It didn't matter if they were in the room or not. She would pick up their thoughts anyways. So why hide from the craziness?

She only hoped that the coming argument with Mal and the others wouldn't send the girl even further over the edge. There had to be hope after all. Hope that they could bring her back.

~HHYFN~

When the window finally opened, Inara stayed behind while the other two went to go get the crew. She'd managed to find underwear and a pad for River during the wait; leaving Jayne behind to keep an eye on her while she hunted down a female member of the staff and begged the necessities from her. Thomas didn't reappear until an hour or so before they could depart, and River had sat motionless in the chair by the table, staring at the plate of food the Operative had set down before helping her from the bed and over to her seat.

Twenty six hours, Inara figured. Twenty six hours since she'd discovered that Riddick had vanished like smoke. Bastard. Asshole. There weren't names or curses enough in the 'Verse to cover him. Her eyes felt gritty, and she knew she'd rubbed most of her makeup off. Jayne wasn't much better, but Thomas must have had some sort of inhuman strain of stamina, or he'd caught a nap somewhere along the way, because he looked fresh and ready to go.

River hadn't slept a wink the entire time, sitting, standing, or moving however they guided her. Inara had tried to talk her into a shower, and that was the only time they saw any life in the girl. She'd gone from zero to the speed of light in nothing flat, moving from the bathroom to the far side of the bedroom before either Jayne or Inara really knew what had happened.

Somehow or other she'd snagged one of Riddick's discarded shirts along the way, and no matter how they begged or cajoled or bribed or threatened, they couldn't get it away from her. She held it bunched in her face, muttering through the fabric about wars and blood and how she was going to skin him alive and did he really think he could go through with this just because it was _her_ plan and didn't he know that the demons of Xibalba would gladly take his soul in her stead?

At least, that's what Inara thought she might be muttering. Her words were disjointed, filled with long pauses and gasping breaths. She quivered and rocked in time with what Inara could only assume was her heart beat as she crouched against the wall and nearly wrapped the shirt around her head. Little thrills of fear ran up the Companion's spine at the sight and sound of it.

In the end, Inara had sat down next to her, half pulled her into her lap, and held the young woman as the she shuddered and shook. Jayne had damped a rag and helped get the worst of the blood of River's face and arm before going back to his guitar, eyes haunted in a way the Companion had never seen. Then he had played lullabies till his fingers fumbled the notes and his head nodded on his chest. That was how Thomas found them. Jayne running his hands over the guitar strings and Inara combing her fingers through River's hair, neither all the way awake, but neither willing to drop fully into sleep either.

Now she was waiting, wondering what Mal's reaction had been to the men showing up and virtually demanding the entire crew come up to the complex. As far as her husband knew, Riddick still planned to kill him. Would he have taken it as a good sign? Would it give her family hope that the pair had succeeded with the triggers? Somehow, given the looks on Thomas and Jayne's faces when they left the room, Inara doubted that anyone but Sierra and Kaylee would be looking forward to the visit. The others, they'd know something was up. They'd know.

"Stomping, snarling, growling, snapping," River whispered, and twisted slightly in Inara's lap to look at the door. "The thunder comes, the storm finds the breakwater. The tide is a tsunami."

Inara blinked down at the girl, but she'd rolled over and wrapped her arms around her head, breath coming in short gasps. The Companion didn't get a chance to ask what the young woman meant, because she heard the muffled tromp of booted feet and the hum of angry voices. Good thing she hadn't made any mental bets with herself.

"Don't see why the ruttin' hell you won't just tell us what's going on," Mal's voice drifted through the door as he came to a stop behind it. There was a light knock, Thomas probably, but it was almost lost in the rest of her husband's rant. "Gorram Operative. You know what time it is? Gettin' us all up. Bringin' _Serenity_ into the mountain. Jayne! What in the sphincter of hell's he playin' at anyways?"

Jayne, wisely enough, kept his mouth shut; a thing that was probably sending Mal into fits. The loud blustering merc of the past few years had vanished the minute he realized Riddick was gone, and in his place was a man of quiet intensity, with far sharper eyes than Inara had ever given the man credit for. Was this the real Jayne? Was this why the pair had asked him to come up to Mik-lat? They must have seen something in him that the rest didn't.

Seen. Seeing. Saw.

Oh God. There she went again.

"Infectious," River whispered. "The lunacy. The sight. Cannot unsee what your eyes have told you. Cannot un-know." Huge brown eyes, wet with tears and set in an ashen face, rose to meet those of the Companion. "Oh that she did not know the whys and the _whys_!"

Another knock, and then the door slid open. Thomas stood aside, waving the rest of the crew in, blocking the control pad for the lights with his body so no one would try and turn them up. The one time Jayne had tried it while they waited for the window, River had screeched and lunged and nearly broken the panel in her rush to return to room to its former dimness. They'd left the lights alone after that.

"River," Mal snapped. "What the hell-"

Inara hissed at him and glared and he, for one, snapped his mouth shut. Behind him Zoe was peering through the gloom, an expression of puzzled worry on her face. Sierra was sleeping in Kaylee's arms, and the mechanic seemed to be having a time of it, balancing the dead weight of the little girl against that of her stomach.

"River," Simon's voice was soft. Worried. He slipped between Kaylee and Zoe and approached the bed, hands spread in the universal signal for being unarmed. "River, what's going on?"

"And where's Riddick?" That was Kaylee, blunt as ever and just as naïve.

At the rear of the group Jayne winced. Thomas sighed. Inara braced herself, curling instinctively around the girl in her lap, and gave Kaylee such a hard look that the young woman almost stumbled backwards. It was probably the first time she'd ever been harsh with the mechanic, but she couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for it. Who know what that innocent question might set off? Inara was well aware that she'd be first in the line of fire if River reacted badly to the query.

In fact, it wasn't River she should have been worried about. The girl lay curled in on herself, and whimpered when Riddick's name was spoken, but otherwise seemed oblivious to her family standing before her.

It was Mal who blew up. Already on edge from the trip up here and the severe lack of information, he must have put two and two together fairly quickly. He went ramrod straight as rage painted itself over his face. Two lurching steps in River's direction and he ran into Thomas, who stood with his arms at his sides, a gun in one hand and a sword in the other.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Mal demanded, and River whimpered and clutched at her ears. Inara flinched, but her husband had gone off into that special brand of anger that was all his own. Spinning on his heel, he drew his pistol and had it jammed up under Jayne's chin before any of them could blink. "You better not be tellin' us what I'm thinkin' you brought us here to tell," he growled, and pulled the hammer back on the gun.

"Well," Jayne snarled back as he swatted the gun away. "If you think we brought ya here to say that Riddick's gone ghost on us, you'd be right." He ignored the gun when it came back up and glared down at his Captain. "If you're askin' why, then point that thing somewhere else. Ain't gone no ruttin' idea."

Of course, everyone turned to look at River, and the girl cried out, twisting where she lay. Inara took a deep breath, stuffed all her anxieties and fears in the deepest corner of her mind she could manage, and wrapped herself around the girl. All she could think to try was mediation breathing, the calming exercises her instructors had drilled into her over years of tutelage. Control was the first thing a Companion learned after all, and if you couldn't control your own body, then how could you keep a client in line?

"Breath _mei mei,_" Inara whispered, fighting tears at the thought of the agony the girl must be going through. Trying to will the girl to match the deep inhales and exhales she was forcing herself to make. "Just breath."

Mal and Zoe had their guns out, Simon was glaring bloody murder, and she could hear a hitch in Kaylee's breathing that foretold tears. But there wasn't time for that now. There was a girl in her lap, heartbroken and lost and abandoned and she needed to know that she wasn't alone. That at least one person in this crazy messed up family was trying to help.

Make that two. Jayne had taken advantage of Mal's distraction to sidle around and take hold of River's knee. A moment, that was all he gave her, but something hidden behind that scowl and those hard blue eyes must have spoken to the girl, because the ragged panting started to slow, and the measured beats of meditation started making themselves known.

"If you are quite finished," Thomas said quietly. "There is much to discuss, and I do not believe that it would be wise to inflict ourselves on River at this juncture. She is very…hurt right now. And all this anger is doing her no good."

Inara sighed as Mal swiveled to point his gun at the Operative, Zoe not a heartbeat behind. This was going well indeed.

~HHYFN~

Eventually Thomas manage to get everyone calmed enough to put their weapons away. It only took a little more convincing to get them to leave the room. Jayne helped by holding open the door and glaring at them all impartially. Inara did her bit with a few scathing remarks about Mal literally jumping the gun and how he should wait until they had the whole story before shooting the one man who could tell them what had happened. River lay on the edge of the bed, Inara having eased out from under the girl and draped one of the blankets over her. Sierra was blinking sleepily at the lot of them; and in a burst of hope and inspiration, the Companion bit her lip, prayed, and took the child from Kaylee. Soon enough she was settled with her back to River's stomach and fast asleep, one hand curled around that of the young woman's

That seemed to be the clincher for Mal. He wasn't going to get answers from River, and pushing her would yield who-knew-what results. He allowed Thomas to lead them into the hallway, sparing a glare for Jayne, who almost growled in return, and a hard look for his wife. Inara lifted her chin, gifted him with her own scornful gaze, and stalked past him and down to the meeting room that Riddick had commandeered for remaking his harness. Had it only been a week or so? Had it really even happened?

Mal waited only long enough for the door to shut behind him before turning on Thomas, arms crossed and jaw set. "Now," he snapped. "Mind callin' it quits on the smoke and mirrors? Where. Is. Riddick?"

Thomas sighed, scrubbed both hands over his face, and propped a hip up on the edge of the table. "The long and short of it Captain Reynolds, is that Mr. Riddick has gone to get himself caught."

Stunned silence met that announcement. Inara checked herself for heart beat and breathing. Yes. She was alive. Awake, alive, but certainly not hearing things right. He couldn't have just said what she thought he said. Could he?

As her family erupted around her, she searched franticly for anything to support the claim. River's babbling made a little more sense in the context, but not much. War and blood and what else had she said?

He'd left without her.

Sweet mother of all things holy.

She'd forgotten her musings on that comment in the day since it had been made. Streaks of blood and the increasingly erratic behavior of the girl had driven all thoughts from the Companion's head, excepting those to do with trying to take care of her. It made a horrible sort of sense, if she fit it together with the pair's behavior over the past week.

Clinging to the doorjamb for support, she scanned the faces of her family. Jayne was scowling at everyone in general, and if he hadn't figured it out then she was a common whore and not a Companion. He'd been there for the whole thing after all. Zoe too, had a frown on her face, but it was aimed at Thomas and no one else. Simon looked panicked, although that could just as easily be for the state River was in as it could be for its cause. Kaylee was clinging to Mal's arm, trying to get him to calm down, to explain to her please, because she couldn't, _wouldn't_ believe that Riddick would just up and leave. He loved River too well. Doted on her. Had done so much for her. He couldn't just be _gone_. Could he?

Mal though, Mal was beyond logic. Beyond being calmed. He had Thomas by the shirt and was growling threats and demands for a better explanation and directions for wherever Riddick had gone so he could follow and do his best to turn the man inside out before blowing him to kingdom come. None of which would be possible, all of which could get them killed in return.

Inara pushed through the press of people and went to work on her husband's hands where they were fisted in Thomas' clothes. "_Wuo de ma,_" she snapped. "Mal would you let the man talk?" She yanked at his arm and he whipped around to glare at her. "He didn't just _leave_," she continued. "Not without reason." Taking his face between her hands, she tried to soften her tone and make him understand. "Please Mal. Just listen."

Hard blue eyes bored into hers, and she wished for a moment that she had a way to shove all her speculations and hopes and fears in his direction, so he could understand what she thought had happened.

A breath. Another.

Finally he sighed, took her hands in his, and looked over at Thomas. "You got a minute, Mister, before I blow a hole in your head and get me and mine the hell out of here."

Thomas tugged at his shirt collar to straighten it, took up his previous position on the edge of the table, and nodded. "Fair enough Captain Reynolds." He paused for a moment, obviously searching for the best way to phrase things, and then shrugged.

"Mr. Riddick woke me towards the end of the last window, demanding a ship and a guide. He had already gotten Paul up and convinced him to listen, at least in part. But he needed us both, apparently just for this reason. One to go with him to another of the Core worlds. To help him find a target. The other to explain where he went. And to tell you not to try and find him." He held up a hand at Mal's mutter of protest. "As you know; our endeavors to locate Mr. Riddick's sister-"

"Kyra," Kaylee supplied helpfully.

Thomas nodded. "Kyra. Our efforts have failed. Whether via electronic or human means, Blue Sun has done a much better job of hiding whatever facility they have the girl's body hidden than they did with the Academy. River has been attempting to…sift through the information. To collate it from the collective experiences of those who have already hunted and to see if she could find something new. A clue, a direction. Anything. She has been quite…insistent on it."

Jayne snorted explosively and Inara caught a mutter of "Obsessed," before the combined looks of the rest of the crew made him clamp his mouth shut and glare right back. She shook her head. He was right after all.

After a pause to make sure they were all done, Thomas continued. "The solution is fairly obvious, from a tactical standpoint. In order to find out where Kyra's body has been hidden, the next logical step is to insert someone inside Blue Sun. Preferably under very deep cover." He sighed and rubbed at the joints of his metal hand. "It is what we were about to try next. There are, after all, other Operatives. Some of them are still working inside the system, feeding information to the groups outside."

Zoe cursed, briefly but with feeling. "_Wu de tyen ah!_ That's what Riddick's planning!?"

Kaylee's eye went huge and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Inara felt her knees go weak, and she fumbled for the support of Mal's shoulder as she tried to deal with the confirmation of her worst fears. A strong arm slipped around her waist, and she could feel the rage in her husband's grip as he too tried to come to terms with the revelation.

"Why?" That was Simon, and his voice was hoarse with a multitude of emotions. Inara looked up in time to see him shake his head and press the heels of his hand to his temples. "Why? Why Riddick? Why would he leave without letting anyone know? Without telling River?"

Thomas opened his mouth to reply, but Jayne beat him to it. "It's what she said," he told them, and met Inara's eyes over Mal's shoulder. "That 'He left without her.'"

"Wait," Simon snapped. "What?"

Thomas was nodding though, and the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place for Inara. She stared at the Operative, then back at Jayne, and finally at her husband. He wasn't stupid. Incredibly blind when it came to River's choices in men, but not stupid. Especially not when it came down to military maneuvers. There was a reason, after all, that he'd been able to hold Serenity Valley for so long when the command structure had fallen. A reason he'd kept his crew alive all these years.

"You've got to be shittin' me," he breathed, staring at Thomas with round eyes. "No way she'd want to put herself back into…into _that_ hellhole."  
Thomas shrugged. "I cannot say Captain. All I know is what Riddick decided to do. And from his actions, I can infer that River did indeed plan to throw herself to the wolves, as it were. Which, given how badly Blue Sun wants her back, is a viable plan when looked at objectively"

"Well yeah," Mal snapped. "But it's a piece of _go se_ plan. Did she really think we'd let her do that, just to find a dead girl who may or may not be the key to world domination?"

Inara suppressed a groan and refrained from slapping him upside the back of the head. Idiot. Just when she thought he was starting to see the whole picture, he had to go and open his mouth.

"It's not about world domination. Not to him. It was about keeping her safe." Zoe's voice was quiet, and she was watching Thomas very carefully, one hand on the butt of her mare's leg He lied to her. Only answer. Told her they'd go in together. Probably with trackers or some such imbedded." She looked over at the Captain. "You heard him. How he's escaped all those prisons. Prob'ly used that to talk her into not goin' alone."

Thomas was nodding, eyes resigned. Jayne pushed his way past Simon and Kaylee so he could meet Mal's eyes, and the expression on his face did not bode well for what was about to happen. She'd seen that look before. When he'd gotten the bit between his teeth and decided he knew better than Mal how to run the ship. She could see Zoe shifted her stance behind the man, getting ready to do something. Probably stick him in a neck lock and drag him out of the room. Inara had the feeling Mal would need to be subdued fairly quickly as well.

"Gorram it Mal," Jayne hissed. "Think. You ever get the idea, for one iota of a second, that Riddick would let River throw herself back in that hell hole, back to the people what did all that to her brain, if he could stop her?"

The man blew out a breath and crossed his arms defensively. "You may be blind as a bat when it comes ta those two, most of the rest of us ain't. Course he went along with her plan. Course he lied to her. I'd a' done the same. An' so would you or Simon, if it were either a your women." He leaned in and prodded Mal in the chest. 'Difference is, he's got somethin' them Blue Sun science types want. Those eyes. The freaky glowin'. Hell," he threw his hands in the air. "They seen him on the surveillance with River, they got brains at all to get into the feeds. Which you _know _they do. Wouldn't be too hard for him to convince someone that he really _is _that girl's brother."

"So what," Mal asked harshly. "He just walks into a station full of Feds and turns himself in?" He shook his head. "I don't buy it."

Inara frowned. She was still trying to wrap her mind around the idea of Jayne giving himself up for _anybody_. So distracted was she by the idea, she almost missed Thomas as he re-entered the discussion.  
"That," he said. "Is why he wanted a guide. I would be too noticeable." He brushed his metal hand over the casing of his false eye. "Paul on the other hand, can blend in. He also has much more…detailed knowledge of the key players on the Blue Sun side, having had to work with them before. He would be able to help pick a suitable…target for this endeavor. "

"Target." Simon seemed to be snapping out of his stunned daze. "Target for what?"

Thomas gifted the younger man with a look Inara could have sworn River had originated. "You don't think it would be as _easy_ as walking into a Fed station and asking for his sister? Trust me Doctor Frye, by the time Riddick is done, he will have their complete attention. That, or he'll be dead."

Simon muttered something unintelligible under his breath at that, but didn't seem to have any more questions. None of them did. If Thomas was right, there wasn't anything else that needed answering.

Except for one.

"So what now," Kaylee asked softly, rubbing absently at her swollen belly with one hand.

Thomas sighed. "Now, we wait. For Paul to get back, for Riddick to send up a flare, or for River to tell us that she knows where he is. All we can do is wait."

**Author's Note: ** So. Learning a lesson. Don't read Walt Longmire books watch Sherlock, Longmire or My Little Pony, plot bits of possible crossovers, try to write a new chapter and edit another. All in the same two days. Brain overload much?

Anyways, here we go. I'm having fun trying to keep things in line now. Riddick off on his own, the crew having a collective FIT, River off in la la land. Expect a bit of juggling of the timelines as we continue. As always, I love to hear what you think especially as we continue down the home stretch here. Thanks all to those who read, review, fav and follow!

These people and their worlds are, of course, not mine. Now go! Watch the new Riddick movie and help fund another!

Shenandoah76209: Glad you like! Riddick the Crazy is a bit different than the Riddick we've seen so far, isn't he? And yeah, I don't think good things are in store when she gets through to him.

Guineverekay: Movie was awesome wasn't it? Just went to it for the third time last night. Took the hubby. He tolerates my obsession ;) Yeah. There's Fiery Death planned up ahead. Need a little more personal drama and agony first though. Lovely eh?

Rachet: Hope you like it! I love it! Makes me want to drop this pair into that 'verse and watch the fur fly. Glad you liked the chapter!

: Heheh. That's ok. Glad to have you making comments! No worries. No spoliers. I hate them myself.

Translations:

go se- Dog shit

ta ma de- Mother fucker

_Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze__!_ -Son of a drooling whore and a monkey

_shee_-_niou -_Shit urine

fong luh- Crazy

_Chéng__méng__guān__zhào- _to be indebted to sb for care; thank you for looking after me

_Wuo de ma-_ Mother of Jesus

_Wu de tyen ah-_ Dear God in heaven


	57. Chapter 57

Ch. 57

_Sometimes I don't know why we'd rather live than die,_

_We look up towards the sky for answers to our lives._

_We may get some solutions but most just pass us by,_

_Don't want your absolution cause I can't make it right._

_I'll make a beast out of myself, gets rid of all the pain of being a man._

"Bat Country" Avenged Sevenfold

It had taken her less than a minute to realize what had happened. Less than a minute to roll over and find that the place next to her was empty and the bed cold. How long had she been asleep? How long had he been gone?

Any sort of plan to follow and cut his head start down to nothing was lost in the general shock of the discovery. There was a huge empty place in her mind. Not cut out, not gone. Just…empty. The place where the tree and the stream and the jaguar should be was _empty_. All she was left with was the well; the waters rising to cover her head, and fire. Flames, reaching for the sky and cutting off her access to the place of safety. To the place of sanctuary.

She was going to kill him for this. Slowly. She was going to track him down, drag him back, and make sure he spent a very, very long time finding out just how badly he'd hurt her by pulling this particular stunt. Bastard. Asshole. There weren't words to describe the pain. She wanted to scream, but the sound was locked in her throat. She wanted to hit something. Many somethings.

But inanimate objects couldn't feel pain and the only person who deserved it was who knew how many millions of miles away. So she sat, locked in hurt and shock and anger and tried to fight her way through. Tried to see her way clear of the waters that swamped her and the fire that hissed steam in her face as she tried to swamp it. Over and over, she tried to drown it. To beat a way through the barrier of sheer stubborn willpower and shriek her rage and anguish straight into his mind.

Jayne was the first to find her, and she latched onto the warmth of his skin and the simplicity of his mind and tried. Tried so hard to ground herself in reality. But he was worried. So very worried. And drawing too many comparisons. He didn't know what happened, but he knew that he couldn't find Riddick. Hadn't been able to find him all morning. And the Operatives were suspiciously absent. So he'd come looking. He wasn't stupid. He knew their routine by now. The servants may be afraid of the big man, but he, Jayne Cobb, knew that walking softly and making himself a non-threat would probably keep him safe.

Poor Jayne. The weapon clucked her tongue and shook her finger at the girl. Here she was, naked as the day she was born and clinging to the ape man for all she was worth. His mind was turning colors, and he was wishing himself very far away, and here she was, dead weight. Useless. Unworthy. Needing protection. Again.

_Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiouh doh sai-jin wuh duh pee-goo!_ That _huh choo-shang tza-jiao duh tzang-huo!_ Leaving her like he did. Just who did he think he was anyways, to make that decision for her? Was she not the match? Didn't she keep up?

Her brain swirled and snapped and spun as she layered curse after curse and threw them at the flaming wall. They fizzled and steamed, vanishing in mere moments. Sometime during her assault on his barriers Thomas came in. But she threw up her own walls; high and icy and thick. She felt him touch her shoulder, turn her face towards his. But she didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to feel his sorrow and sympathy. She _knew_ what had happened. She _knew _why he was there. She didn't need it explained. She didn't need his pity. She needed him to promise her that he'd take her. Pack her up in another ship and help her track down that no good sonofawhore so she could skin him out and leave him for the Reavers.

But he'd refuse. She knew it as sure as she knew that the bond was still there. It thrummed and pulsed with anger and impotent fury, and she was sending just as much back towards that _gou tsao de_ wall as she was getting. Thomas agreed with Riddick, damn him. Agreed down to his heart of hearts that she should stay here. He'd sworn himself to her, years ago. And in the name of that oath he'd chain her to the floor if need be, to keep her from following her man.

Her Riddick.

Oh God!

What he'd done! Better he _had _chained her. Better he'd told her. Let her know. Let her fight and fight and fight. Because they _were _matched. They _were _equals. They'd fight themselves to a standstill.

They had.

Just not with their fists.

It wasn't as if she didn't know _exactly _why he'd done it. It wasn't as if she didn't know what he had planned. She wasn't an idiot after all, and in her heart of hearts she knew that in his place she would have done the same.

It didn't make it better. It didn't make it hurt any less.

Which was why he lied to you, her weapon whispered in her ear. Somehow she was curled up, wrapped in slim arms of metal and hard edges. They sliced at her consciousness, bleeding out her thoughts into the water around her, like a cloud of blood for the sharks to find. Perfect. Think and they shall appear. Dark fins cut the water around her; the questions, curiosity, wondering and fear of those around her. Inara had arrived, last to notice the wrongness in the complex, and her shock and trepidation gave the sharks full form. Huge, hammer-headed beasts, their heads streamlines backwards to their bodies. Their fins stretched out like wings, and their tails were long whip-like constructions that lashed at the water.

These weren't sharks. These were the monsters. The monsters from the planet, given gills and dropped into her mind. They'd scented the blood, the blood the weapon had loosed in the water while trying to comfort. To shelter her. To protect her.

She'd been left. And he wasn't coming back for her like he had for Jack. There was no rock over a cave entrance. No light to keep her safe.

Inara was asking her something. Something important, at least to her mind. Something that should have been painfully obvious to anyone with eyes and a brain. She thrashed in the grip of the weapon, and the sharks circled closer. She didn't care. Didn't the woman know? Didn't she realize?

She wailed in despair, and the treacherous weapon twisted her cry into words.

"He left without me!"

And then, for a long time, she only floated.

~HHYFN~

At some point she came to the realization that they'd manage to pry her away from Jayne and get some clothes on her. Thomas was gone, taking his pity and sorrow with him, and she wished him good riddance. That Jayne had taken his anger and frustration with him when he went helped some; dulling from a hard ringing in her mind to a quieter buzz. His return had heralded the advent of music, and he quieted his mind for her in one of the few ways he knew how. Drink wouldn't help, although he was buzzed from the whiskey he'd brought. And losing himself in a woman was out of the question. If she'd been in any better shape she may have giggled at how quickly he veered away from that thought. Whores were getting less and less appealing anyways.

It was all a distraction. An attempt to divert her mind from the truth. Nothing could keep her from that wall of flame for very long, and she couldn't help but throw herself at it. The girl was all over blisters, and the weapon glowed a dull red around the edges as she lent her strength to the endeavor. And to top things off, she could smell herself. Coppery. Old.

She knew that smell. She didn't need any _shiong-muh duh duang-ren_ to tell her what that smell was.

He was right. God was out to get them.

There was a laugh burbling up inside her, manic and insane and everything that she most definitely _was_ at this moment. The weapon clamped it down before she it could escape from her vocal chords, but she couldn't stop the movement. Slowly, carefully, she reached for the blood and drew some out. It glistened in the dim light, dark and dead and taunting her with could have beens.

He'd said next time would be easier, damn him. He'd said that next time, her family would be more used to him. That they'd know what to expect when it happened and they'd be able to brace themselves. She'd heard the promise he didn't make. That if she chose, there would be no war, no taunting. That he wouldn't put her though that again if she didn't ask for it.

_Jien tah-duh gway!_

How could she not have seen this coming? How could she not have Seen?

The sharks were back. Her thoughts called to them. Her blood called to them. Wars that had been. Wars that would be. The war of the now and the here and it was being fought with mind and will instead of with bodies and blades and guns.

There was blood though. So much blood. So much meaning. The blood of her thoughts as the weapon tried to hold her down in coherency. Blood between her legs, the mark of her womanhood. What was the mark of a man? Not leaving a girl behind to fend for herself in lunacy. Or was it? She didn't know anymore. Maybe she never had known.

Fingers. She could feel them between her legs. She was sore, her insides cramping with something more physical than her anguish. Treachery. Betrayal. Being stabbed in the back by her body. The blood smelled old, even to her crippled nose, and it was dark with death. A promise of new life, lost and gone and something about that niggled at her consciousness. But all she could think was that blood was a binding agent. Person to person. Mother to child to brother to sister to lover to…

Oh God!

The scar on her arm was taunting her, and she tried to cover it. Tried to make it new. Shock and horror and denial beat at her mind, tasting of incense and dark chocolate and rough whiskey and gun metal. She ignored them. The bond wasn't getting any stronger. It was there, but she was blocked. If anything it was thinner, and the blood on her arm wasn't helping to strengthen it, to make it possible for the waters she floated in to wear away at the flaming wall.

For a moment she considered reopening the scar, but what good would that do? Her bonded was gone. There was no one else she wanted. No one else she needed. And he was gone. Gone! Gone on some stupidly noble mission of self-sacrifice. Gone to prevent her from taking on the same task. To keep her from throwing herself into the hell she could feel creeping through her mind like a tide up the beach.

She whimpered. There was the measure. There was the manhood. Women had to bleed. Men had to leave. Had to abandon. Had to throw themselves on a grenade to prove themselves. Stupid testosterone fueled creatures. Ruled by hormones and penis and ego.

The outside forces were a hurricane, whipping the waters to a froth. The sharks ignored the turbulence, but she was caught. Caught in a refusal to believe; amazement at her behavior. Her own derision and scorn nearly threw her out of the ocean, but the waters rose higher and all that happened was a giggle. It grated on her ears as she sank beneath the waves and the darkness rose up to swallow her.

Down. Down so far that only the strongest of outside influences could sway her now. Even the tsunami was only a ripple, down this deep. She knew she was speaking. Knew she was frightening. But the sharks had followed her, calling her name, and she needed to get as far away as she could. They weren't built for the pressure of deep water, of true insanity.

They couldn't survive in the home she used to inhabit. She'd go there. Broken sagging walls and barnacles over the pictures. It was her place. Not her refuge, but a prison. But a refuge as well. Because down there, where it was dark and cold and everything hit her from every side at once, down there she was safe from people trying to drag her back. From the sharks they sent after her. Down there, she wasn't just River.

Down there she was everything.

Everywhere.

Down there she could undermine the wall of flame, and flood her man's mind when she finally broke through.

~HHYFN~

They finally caught him just outside the building. Those sonic guns packed a hell of a punch, and if he'd gotten hit with them at point-blank range his insides probably would have been pulped. As it was, he'd been met in the street by a ten man squad of specialists who'd lost no time in opening fire. He remembered laughing. The smell of blood and rain and asphalt. And then the feeling of being hit in the gut, head, sides, arms, and even legs by a whole phalanx of sledgehammers. The animal had snarled, made one last bid for freedom so it could call the girl, and then the world had gone black.

When he managed to rein himself in long enough to look at it objectively he decided it was probably a good thing. If they hadn't caught up with him, hadn't gotten to him in time, he would have cut a swathe like Death's own scythe all the way back to the spaceport. Five more minutes and the animal would have been all that was left. His body count would have included every single person dumb enough to get in arm's reach as it, as he, tried to make its way back into space. Five more minutes, and he would have been dragging the entire weight of the Blue Sun Corporation, and probably the Alliance as well, right back to the girl and her family. The rage had him, the animal had nearly made it out of its hole; and the wall he'd put up across the bond was all but gone by the time he recovered enough to think straight.

Maybe that's what had kept him in range of those guns long enough for them to hit. Maybe the animal knew that heading straight back was a death sentence for everyone he'd left behind. For her. For the girl. He could cope a little better if he didn't use her name. It didn't weaken the walls as much. And given how thin they'd become while he was unconscious, that was a good thing. He hadn't been awake to keep rebuilding them, and as sure as mercs lived for the payday, she was trying to tear them down from the other side. That she hadn't managed it yet worried him a little, and the animal nearly went into a frenzy when he felt for the bond and got only the thinnest of threads instead of the thick cable it had been. Distance? Time? The result of what he'd done to her by leaving?

He had no idea, and the possibilities were enough to scare him in a way he didn't ever remember feeling. He'd have to bring the walls down soon. Have to let her know where he was. Have to reach for her the best he could, because he knew that if she'd been able to reach him, if the bond had been strong enough, she would have already fried him. He would know, somehow, someway, that he'd finally failed to hide himself from her.

Because sure as fuck, he had no idea where he was. And without her able to reach through and get some sort of bead on his location, it wouldn't matter if he could get out of here or not. This whole thing had come from a need to cripple, even destroy Blue Sun if they could. Get into their systems from the inside and blow them the hell out of the sky. If they couldn't eliminate the bastards who refused to stop hunting her, at least they could slow them down.

Cryo was the thing he'd forgotten to account for. Or rather, the lack of cryo. So distracted by keeping that fucking barrier up that he'd forgotten that cryo wasn't the default mode of travel for long distances. After all, the girl had been in a cryo box. It did exist. It just wasn't the norm. Fuck it all anyways.

Disgust. Anger.

They were seeping from under the lid like oil through his thoughts as the animal started trying to work its way free again. At least the lid on its hole had stayed in place. That was something he'd had a lot more practice at; and although the animal had woken from their enforced sleep, he could keep it down a little longer. Keep his head. Make an assessment of this place before he started having to fight himself more than anything. Yet another reason to abandon the wall soon. A war on three fronts was a losing prospect, and he knew his limits.

He missed her so bad it was hard to breathe. The animal thrashed again and he swallowed down a growl before it could manifest completely. More rage, denial, and fear. Fear he'd lost her forever and when the fuck had he turned into the guy who latched onto someone that hard and didn't care about the holes it punched in his armor? When had she redefined his existence and how, if she left him alive and didn't take him back, how long would he last before all that was left was the animal?

He shoved it down, welded a seal around the rim of the lid, and tried to concentrate on his surroundings. Damn instincts were poisoning his plans. Fuck that. Fuck the new wrench throw in the works too.

Wrenches. Getting chucked at his head. What the hell possessed her to think throwing a wrench at a confessed murderer was a good idea? And then she got that little mechanic to do it too. Or she'd picked it up from her. Either way. Fucking stupid idea. Endearing, ballsy, and he almost wished they'd knock him out again so he wouldn't feel the itch between his shoulder blades that told him she was about take another swing at caving in his head.

Son of a fucking bitch. He must have gotten hit harder than he thought. At least they'd left the goggles. They wouldn't be able to see him blinking to clear his vision. There was two of everyone, his eyes fooling the brain but his nose telling the truth. He took the doubt, the rage, and the frustration that were worming their way through his consciousness and fed it back into the wall. Flames roared in his head and the blood rushed and he was dizzy with the effort of it. But he'd gotten it shored up, gotten himself blocked off again for a little while, and now he could pay more attention to his surroundings.

This was going to be hell to get out of. The sort of hell that required stolen DNA, maybe cutting off a hand or two for fingerprint scans, and a fucking metric ton of luck. He'd done it before. He could do it again. But if this wasn't the place, with its white walls and the lights that burned his eyes even through the goggles, then it was someplace similar. He'd never seen a prison this clean.

At least he was in. That had been the goal after all. Even if jack, if Kyra wasn't here, this place could lead him to her.

They had him chained down like cargo, strapped to some sort of wheeled contraption. There wasn't a millimeter of give in the cuffs, either hand or leg, and they'd strapped him down not only at the outer extremities; but the thighs, upper arm and around the waist as well. In fact, they weren't any sort of conventional cuff. If these things didn't retract and lock into the back of this open faced coffin, he wasn't any judge of restraints. Fuck, he might as well just give up now if he were that stupid.

The animal writhed inside, and he fought the urge to make an obvious effort to loosen the cuffs. They probably knew he was awake, but he didn't need to put them on edge. Better he got a look at this place, what he could see of it. It was full of people and reeked of chemicals. The walls echoed back the footsteps of the guards and the tiny creaking of the wheels on his transport. There were no shouts. No arguments that he could hear. The people here were calm, even his jailors, and from what he could hear through the doors he was passing, not a one of them here unwilling.

Not even him.

They stopped in front of a door, gray metal with a grated eye slit at head height. A swipe of a card, a palm on a pad, and it slid open. He breathed deep of the air that rushed out to meet them and got nothing. Nothing new at least. The animal twisted, but it was locked down for the moment and he had most of his reasoning in place. A cot came into view as they wheeled him in. Too narrow for his shoulders, but what else was new. A john in the other corner, gleaming stainless steel and too solidly fastened to the wall and floor to be ripped free and used as a weapon. But you could snap a neck against it, if only you could get someone dumb enough to come all the way into the room. The animal bared its teeth in satisfaction at that thought, and the man agreed.

He was proved right about the restraints. They slid into the back of the transport and he stood for a moment, relishing the feel of nominal freedom. The animal was taking the measure of the guards, insisting that he could move fast enough to take them out if he went low and used one as a shield. And that would leave him the lone suit, the man who'd been following along the rear of their little parade.

He wanted to do it. But he knew it wouldn't work. Sure he could take the ones in front, but the tranqs they'd dosed him up with were still in his system and he'd only just gotten the visual tally of guards to come down from sixteen to eight, all spread in a circle around him. And the way that suit was fingering his pocket, smug satisfaction rolling off him in waves; he had something on him that would negate any supposed advantage that surprise would give him. The animal raged at the man's assessment of the situation, but there was nothing it could do. They'd tipped their hand back on Osiris, about what they could do and how much damage they could stand. They'd needed to do it, but from here on out everything would be that much harder because of it.

The girl.

The animal shoved the feeling his way as he stepped off the transport and rolled his head on his shoulders. The girl could have been here. Could have been worse off. And it was convinced that these were the people who had hurt her in the first place. Scent, sound, body language. Their location even. He didn't know what had it so certain. But it was. And it didn't see why he was letting them live. Kill them all. Cut them down. Make them bleed.

Make them _pay. _

It was a good thing she wasn't here. It was a good thing the men around him didn't have her talents. If they knew how close he was to unsealing that hole and letting the animal out again, they'd drop him now and to hell with the consequences. As it was, he fought down the ragged breathing and the compulsion to reach out and shove the nose of the guard nearest him up into his brain. Fucking morons. Had they _heard_ of headgear? Helmets?

"Well Mr.…Richards," the suit said quietly as Riddick worked his shoulders. "Welcome to your new home."

Riddick gifted him with a _look_, which slid right over the man's head. The goggles again. Riv-the girl would have understood. The girl would have prodded at him in reply.

The girl was not here, and at no point had that been clearer than when he reached for the bond and her mind and asked for an assessment of the suit's character. The thin threads of consciousness led him right into the wall of fire; and the animal yowled as he not only lost the feel of the bond, but seared his own thought processes as well. The suit was saying something, his mouth moving and breaths of contempt and self-satisfaction wafting over, but he couldn't make his brain translate. All he knew was that he was alone. For the first time in months, he was as alone in his head as he'd ever been and it was all. His. Fault.

He wanted to kill the man in front of him. He could see ten different ways to do it. Ghost him and the guards and everyone in this complex. Tear the place down around their ears and make them wish they'd never heard of River Tamm. If it hadn't been for them and men like them, she would have never been hurt, never been raped in a way most people never even thought possible.

The suit was smirking now, and Riddick found he'd shifted half a step forward, intent on closing his hands around that pale throat and ripping the man's head from his neck. The guards around him shifted, tightening their stances just a bit. Just enough to remind the animal that they were outnumbered, out gunned and that they needed to stay _alive_ to get this finished. It backed off, and some of the searing pain eased in his skull.

He rammed the agony back into the wall for and managed to make himself speak in words instead of hoarse growls. "Ain't said jack about my sister," he gritted out. "Think I'm just gonna sit in here while she's out there somewhere, you got another thing coming."

The animal snarled when the suit smiled, and the man noticed that it had unsealed the lid over its hole somehow. But it hadn't come out, and that was what mattered now.

"Indeed Mr. Richards. I do. In fact, I expect it."

Eight gun barrels rose to find their targets on his head as he growled and stepped forward again. The man eyed them, the animal ignored them. But the man didn't give him a chance, either to argue or fight. Instead, he shrugged and stepped back towards the door, leaving certainty and arrogance floating in the air behind him. "Of course," he said quietly. "If you force us to kill you, you won't be able to find out if we really have her or not, now will you?"

Something about the statement cut its way through the rage, and Riddick stopped, leaned back on his heels, and snorted. "Somehow I get the feeling I'll be seeing her a lot sooner than you think." Bravado. Bullshit and bravado. Until he knew the lay of the land, it was all he had to fight with. The animal scorned it; scorned the dishonesty of it. The man knew he'd put himself in this corner with these guns and that he'd have to live with it.

But not forever.

The suit smiled a little wider, dipped his head in acknowledgment, and left the room. One by one the guards backed out after him, never taking his head from their sights. He watched them, concentrating on his breathing and keeping his feet planted firmly on the floor in an attempt to ignore the body language and scents they gave off. They'd be back. He was too much of a curiosity to leave alone. A few deep breathes to get the feeling of hyperventilation to ease, and he went to go lay on the cot. Now if he could just hold out a little longer.

He stuck his hands behind his head, shut his eyes, and focused on the internal wall of fire. Time for a little maintenance.

~HHYFN~

By his own internal clock it had been a day since he'd been dumped in the cell. The grated window in the door doubled as a service slot, and they'd left him a tray of food on the ledge that was welded to the lip of the window. They'd dosed it, so he avoided it. When the suit showed back up and asked why he hadn't eaten he answered honestly. He could smell the chemicals and the additives. He'd avoided the water for the same reason.

So they were either going to let him starve in here, or they'd give him food he could trust. Or, the man put forth the idea that they could just gas him. In the end it didn't matter. In the end, what it came down to wasn't a battle of wills between himself and the people holding him. It came down to the battle of wills he was fighting within himself.

The animal had had enough. Enough of waiting; enough of playing human. It wanted blood. It wanted the girl and the full bond back, however tenuous the connection may be over this distance. He'd stayed on the cot since the suit came to ask about the food. He had the specific purpose of not getting up and destroying the cell. He couldn't show the weakness. The ragged breathing and the pacing and the snarling that were building up inside him would all come spilling out the second he gave himself a millimeter of slack.

He'd been taking the nerves and feeding them into the wall, but there was only so much reinforcement he could give it before it backfired and swallowed his mind instead. He sat on the edge of his mind and tried to feel for the bond. It was as fine as the girl's hair through his fingers. Apples and rain ghosted through his memory and a rumble built in his chest as he tried to push past it.

But the animal was levering itself out of the hole now, and the man was eyeing it with a sort of wary respect. They could still do this. They could still pull this off. But the animal needed to be treated with caution. Raging and fighting and reveling in the blood were what it wanted. What it needed. It would be much better if they kept control of the situation. Worlds better in fact. But the man couldn't do it on his own, and the animal was about to be beyond reason.

Riddick tightened his grip on the sheet beneath him and tried not to remember the last time he'd been clutching at a bed. Her mouth, warm against his skin and the shirt he'd allowed himself to get pinned in wrapped around his back, keeping him from grabbing her and thrusting into her and-He shot upright, pants too tight over his swollen dick and his heart beating wildly as he shied away from the thought.

A day. A fucking day of solitude and consciousness and he was right back to where he'd been on Osiris. If he didn't get his shit in line the animal would tear free, burn this place to the ground, and fly straight across the galaxy and back into her arms. And fuck the consequences. Fuck the trail he'd leave behind, the alarms he'd set off in the corporation, and the fact that she'd probably just gut him on sight. To hell with all that. He knew what he wanted to do.

And he knew what he _had_ to do.

So he set himself the task. He shored up the wall again, made a promise to the animal so it would stay quiet just a little longer, and set the man to building his case. Argument, reasoning, and logic. Fear, hope, desperation and rage. He layered them one after another, like the giant stone walls of New Meccan marketplaces. He gave her everything he had to explain why he'd done what he'd done.

The fact that he was used to being imprisoned. The fact that he could probably withstand more torture, at least in the physical sense. The fact that he knew she was right. Someone _had_ needed to go in. To draw attention to themselves and get close enough to find Kyra. He told her he believed her, that the hybrid army she feared so much scared him almost as much. Why did she think he'd wanted to run?

To keep her and her family safe.

And then he gave her himself. His knowledge that they'd be more likely to stick him in the same facility as Kyra, simply by dint of the unknown connection. His fear that if they got ahold of River, they'd send her someplace else. Someplace impenetrable. She was strong, much stronger than she had been the first time, but he was experienced in escape and she wasn't. What would they do to her if they got her back in their Blue hands? What would happen to her mind, her body?

He refused. Flat out. No questions, no room for argument. Refused to let that happen to her again. Refused to sit and wait and know that somewhere out there she was being hurt, experimented on, bullied and tormented. It was a plea couched in the terms of a dictator and he knew it. But he also knew that for as broken and torn as his mind was now becoming, he would have been worse if he'd let her go alone. Far, far worse if they'd gone in together.

So focused was he on the new wall that he didn't notice the footsteps in the hall or the heart beats coming his way. It was only when the door slid open and the suit spoke that he realized the man was there at all.

"Mr. Richards." Smug amusement oozed through the man's voice and wound its way up his nose. "I have someone here who would like to ask you some questions."

Riddick grunted and tried to cover his initial reaction by sitting up, instead of lunging for the man's neck. "'Sat so?"

"Indeed." The suit stepped aside, making way for the owner of the second, slightly faster heartbeat of the person behind him. Oranges, nerves, were drifting through the air, and they nearly covered the chemical smell that twined with them. The person stepped forward. Huge eyes. A mass of dark hair spilling over her shoulders in wild curls. Pale skin. Slim, athletic body. The girl smiled hesitantly, but there was an animal peering at him through her eyes. If she was in full possession of her wits then he was a merc.

Riddick froze. The animal roared a protest. And the flaming wall erupted, searing his mind as the inferno sucked up every scrap of oxygen and fuel and went looking for more.

**Author's Note**: Well. We're making progress aren't we? I know pretty much nothing about jails, restraints, blah blah blah. So I'm making this up as I go along. Hoping it sounds plausible.

I am going a little heavier on the Riddick POV for the moment. For one, River's stream of consciousness kicks my butt and makes me beg for coherency. It's a balance between making her sound crazy as a loon and trying to make it so the readers can understand.

I forgot to warn you, but I'm ramping things up a little bit. Once again, the story will be earning its M rating, and not for the lemons. Abandon hope, all ye who enter. And remember, there are reasons. You don't fully appreciate the good things till you've lived through the horror. It's pretty much my motto when it comes to writing. So I throw crap at the characters until they buckle, and then I throw a bit more.

As always, I love you all. Every reader, follower, faver, and REVIEWER. Thanks so much!

They are, as ever, not mine.

Shenandoah76209: Yeah. He's screwed. He knows it. Does that make it better or worse? Ouy. Hope you like Riddick so far. I needed to make him a little more sane, so we could find out where he is and what's going on. Don't expect it to continue. One last hurrah from the not-so-crazy, right?

Guineverekay: Dang FF. They do odd things huh? Yeah. River's spinning off into Looneyville. Don't think she'll be back for a while. Poor Jayne. Not his forte, all this taking care of crazy girls and keeping Inara from chugging a whole bottle of whiskey…not fun for him. Inara's holding out like a trooper for the most part, but I don't know how long that will last. We'll have to see. And yeah. The blood thing. When I wrote it, I cringed. Like, full body "Yech". There's such a taboo in society about blood as a rule, and menstrual blood in specific though, that I needed to get my point across.

Rachet: Hahha. Jayne's not having the best of days is he? Poor guy

Translations:

_Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiouh doh sai-jin wuh duh pee-goo- _Everything in space is shoved up my ass

_huh choo-shang tza-jiao duh tzang-huo- _Animal fucking bastard

_gou tsao de-_ Dog-humping

_shiong-muh duh duang-ren-_ Violent lunatic

_Jien tah-duh gway- _Like Hell!


	58. Chapter 58

Ch. 58

_I created the Sound of Madness.  
Wrote the book on pain.  
Somehow I'm still here,  
To explain,  
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.  
You can sleep with a gun.  
When you gonna wake up...  
When you gonna wake up and fight..._

"Sound of Madness" Shinedown

Paul wouldn't let Simon run an IV for River. In fact, he objected to the idea very violently. A an interesting thing considering the fact that when he'd returned to Mik-lat the week before he'd nearly gotten his throat cut by that self-same young woman. Mal had almost let her go through with it too. Nothing the man had ever done had helped to endear himself to the Captain, and in his opinion, the former Operative should have never returned to the complex. Too much of a risk. Too much of a chance that he'd been followed.

But he understood the reasoning. Especially after the other man managed to get the huge curved blade she'd nearly beheaded him with away from his throat and toss it over to Jayne. River'd whimpered and twisted in her brother's arms, trying to get the monstrosity back. It was one of Riddick's, those evil looking things that he'd worn on his back. Ulaks she called them. Mal just called them trouble, and was more than happy that they'd finally gotten it away from her.

A week she'd clung to the damn thing. A week of trying to pry it out of her hands and worrying that she'd slice herself open on it while she slept. A week before Paul reappeared in the complex and asked to see her and she showed the first signs of life beyond breath and whimpers that she'd displayed in ages.

But Paul's request had been formality only, and he'd gotten in the door before Mal could get over his shock at the man's abrupt arrival. And then with the screaming and the creepifyin' stare and the general panic that somehow got everyone gathered in the same room. The girl's voice carried, that was a fact, and his ears were still ringin'.

And then Paul had done the strangest thing Mal had never imagined he'd do. He'd walked over to the girl, still crying for that _ta ma de_ blade, gone down on his knees, and touched his forehead to her feet. She'd frozen. They'd all frozen. Mal would have been encouraging her to give him a good kick if he hadn't been so shocked. The man's words had been clear in the sudden stillness. "I am sorry River. So very sorry. I tried…tried to get him to tell you."

If he could have shot the man and still gotten all his answers, if he could have shot _Riddick_, he would have. As it was, they all waited, staring at the mismatched pair.

River was quiet though, and for a moment he'd actually thought she hadn't heard the man, as far gone in the crazy as she was. But finally she'd twitched, looked down at Paul, planted her bare foot on his shoulder, and shoved him over backwards. "Tell her now," she'd snarled, and a chill had crawled its way down Mal's spine. Her voice was wrong. Her face was wrong. Her eyes were hard and burning and terrifying, rimming in red and imbedded in tear tracked cheeks. This wasn't the girl he knew, the broken creature the Alliance had made and Riddick had finished. This was an entirely different animal, the weapon, and he'd almost thanked God that he wasn't the one under that gaze at the moment.

Paul had picked himself up, bowed his head, and started his tale.

Mal fiddled with a piece of waxed string, staring at the strips of leather still on the table without really seeing them. One thing he knew about Paul, however much he hated the man. He'd never lied to any of them. Even about killing women and children. Thomas was more opaque. But Paul. Paul had been telling the truth. Every single one of his instincts, trained by years of dealing with crooks and bullshitters, had told him that the man was speaking truth.

The story had come out in bits and pieces as they got River calmed down, Jayne gave her back the ulak, and Simon started taking her vitals. Mal had a feeling that the Doc would never meet a crisis without taking someone's physical measure and start looking for ways to fix them up. Good thing he'd not needed to do much at that point. It was before the girl stopped eating after all.

Paul had taken up station at the foot of the bed. A rock for them all to work around as he fixed his eyes on the girl and told his side of the story. It matched with Thomas', at least initially. Being woken up by the hulk of a man who called himself murderer. The plan he'd had, sketchy as it was. Their disagreement about whether or not to let River know. Jayne had interrupted then, asking how she hadn't found out, iffin' she could hear everyone's minds and talkin' or thinkin' about her got her attention.

Paul had crooked a half smile at that, looked over at Thomas where he stood by the door, and shrugged. "Long practice, Mr. Cobb," he said finally. "Long practice at keeping our thoughts walled off at all times. It is how Thomas snuck up on her in the monastery the day she brought Mr. Riddick and Captain Reynolds to see me."

Mouths had gaped around the room, but the Operative plowed forward. Next came their departure, the decision to find a man connected to Blue Sun rather than the Alliance, and the research required to find just the person they needed.

"There was a man," The Operative had said. "Who'd been attached to the Academy in a supervisory position. He oversaw the…work that they did and reported to the Blue Sun Headquarters." Paul'd been watching River carefully, but she'd just sat there cross-legged on the bed, shaking like a leaf and turning that blade over and over in her hands. Finally he'd sighed and continued. "After the…broadwave, he was transferred to a different part of the company. The part associated with the cloning of human organs. For transplants and the like."

Simon had snorted explosively before draping a blanket over his sister's shoulders, but made no comment. Everyone else in the room had shuddered. What little they knew about the efforts to make cloned organs viable all came from the talk Simon had given them after Tracy and his supremely stupid plan had nearly gotten them all pinched. None of it was good.

Paul had waited to see if anyone was going to interrupt again, and then finished his story. Going to Osiris, making their final plans, and the invasion of the man's office. Mal knew that there had to be a lot more to that part of things, far beyond the bare bones that were being laid out; but if anyone needed those details it was River, not him. He'd already made up his mind. For River's own good or not; all the best reasons in the 'Verse wouldn't save Riddick when he caught up with the man. Seeing the girl sitting there, eyes tracking like she was reading something no one else saw, shaking and wide-eyed, breath coming in ragged pants. It sent him back years, to when she'd first popped out of that gorram cryo box. He hated it. Hated seeing the young woman who'd blossomed in her place revert to that scared little girl.

One way or another, Riddick was going to pay for what he'd done.

He'd been so distracted by his musings that he'd almost missed what went on next. Almost, but not quite. Paul had said something about Riddick being caught by the local Feds and being taken to a station, and then turned over to the Inter-Planetary authorities. Then he'd paused, and if he hadn't known better, Mal would have said it was horror on the Operative's face.

It was Simon who broke the silence, eyes hard as stepped between the man and his sister. "Well," he gritted out. "Is he locked up somewhere? In prison?"

River had giggled, a high pitched sound that was more related to a nail being drawn over slate than anything human. She'd clutched the ulak closer to her chest, the edges of the thing drawing lines of blood along her arms. That had gotten Simon distracted enough to leave his staring contest with Paul.

"Yes," Paul had said quietly. "He is locked up somewhere. Although I know not where." He'd sighed and looked down at his hands where they were folded before him. "Last I saw Mr. Riddick, he had cut his way out of the station. They called in two full tactical teams and hit him with enough sonic blasts to have broken every bone in a normal human body. He was…" the man had trailed off and shrugged.

"Animal," River whispered. "Blood and death and freedom." She'd giggled again, and another chill had gone down her Captain's spine at the noise. "Kills and kills and kills again."

Paul had swallowed. "Indeed. From what I could find out on the Cortex, that is a very accurate description."

But River was already gone, back to tracing the serrated curve of the ulak and no longer occupying the world around her.

And that, in Mal's opinion, had been enough. He'd almost gotten the Operative out of the room, along with most of the rest of the crew, and had been ranting quietly to himself about _hwoon dahn_ murderers who thought they knew best when River had spoken behind him, voice clear and cold as ice. "She will wait," she'd said, meeting his eyes with those of the weapon-child. "He will have to resurface; the fires will take his oxygen. And when he does…" she'd looked back down at the monster of a blade in her hand. "When he does, she will find him."

~HHYFN~

That had been the last time she'd spoken. The last time she showed any signs of life at all. She'd even stopped feeding herself; and the squabble between his Doc and the Operative over how to best care for her in that state had been spectacular. He'd almost sided with Simon on the matter. He'd wanted to, so badly. But whether it was all the time he'd had to think, the look in River's eyes as she quivered and shook on the bed, or the glare Inara had given him across the room while the argument over IV lines and nutrients or soft foods and care raged; Mal didn't know. But he'd come down on Paul's side, telling Simon that yes, he understood that she needed something to keep her going, but if they could avoid needles and the panic attacks that tended to go with them, all the better.

It had been another fight after that. Another struggle. Just to keep her fed. They took it in shifts, even Jayne. And that was eerie enough that Mal had taken to hovering outside the door when the big gun hand tried to spoon the latest soft mush into the girl's mouth. It was a side of the big man the Captain had never seen before, though Inara had told him she'd been seeing indicators and odd behavior ever since Riddick had shown up. He'd known of course, that the merc no longer viewed the girl and her brother with the same animosity that he had that first year. But hearing him mutter to her about holding tight, needing to eat and assorted other small comforts was enough to seriously unsettle the mind.

A week and half had passed. The girl's skin was pasty, her hair lank, though clean. Zoe and Inara and even Kaylee had taken to manhandling her into the bathroom at least once a day and standing her under the shower as they cleaned her off, washed her hair, and generally tried to keep her from looking like a homeless beggar. Inara told him about it one night. Told him that the girl just stood there and cried. No sound. No struggle. Sometimes Zoe had to hold her up to keep her from just plain collapsing.

He wasn't just going to kill Riddick. He was going to skin him out and stake him somewhere for the buzzards to find.

The door cracked open, light spilling through and cutting into the near darkness of the room. Mal held his breath. Simon had left not long ago to check on Kaylee and apparently his replacement had arrived. They never left River by herself, not since they'd realized that she'd managed to hide the second ulak somewhere. And she'd pitched a fit of epic proportions when they turned on the light to try and look for it.

Zoe slipped through the door and let it shut behind her. She carried a bowl in one hand and a rag in another. Mal held his breath and tried to be inconspicuous. It helped that the table he sat next to was sitting in a pocket of deep shadow, but he knew that any sudden moves would probably let his best friend and first mate know where he was. She was uncanny like that.

She was also the only one of the crew who'd spent little time with River, beyond the daily bath. Granted, a lot of that time had been spent keeping Sierra corralled and away from the room. Less for her own safety and more for the sanity of everyone else. The endless questions of "Why?" and "When will Auntie River wake up?" and "Where did Riddick go?" and the crying that inevitably followed were enough to drive all the remaining members of the crew just as crazy as River. Poor kid just didn't understand, and there was no explanation any of them could give that would make sense to her.

"River honey," Zoe whispered as she perched on the edge of the bed. "There's soup."

No response. The girl sat, glassy eyed and swaying.

Zoe sighed and set the rag on the bedside table, took a spoonful of soup, and held it carefully to the girl's lips. They parted slightly, and Mal assumed most of the liquid must have made its way in, because Zoe went back for another spoonful. The process was repeated, and repeated; till Zoe finally set the bowl aside, took the rag and wiped at River's chin. It was too dark to see if the girl was watching her, or if she was still staring at that same spot on the wall that she'd been fixated on for the past few hours. She alternated between the wall and the ulak, completely at random, and unless you were sitting right next to her it was nigh on impossible to tell the difference.

Zoe gathered River up, wicked blade and all, and half pulled the girl into her lap, smoothing the flyaway hair back from the pale face. The girl didn't resist, and the dead weight of her had to be hard to keep upright like that. But Mal stomped the urge to go over and help. This was a side of Zoe she never let show, and whether she knew he was there or not, he wasn't going to interrupt.

Finally the older woman leaned back and looked down at River. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "So sorry. Ain't been fair to you. Never asked for this. Never asked to have all this happen."

River was silent. Zoe went back to finger combing her hair. "Used to think there was only so much hurt a body could take. After the war…thought I'd stay numb forever. Hit my limit."

Mal swallowed and stared down at the hand clenched around the spool of waxed thread he'd been toying with.

"Met Wash. An' he made some of the hurt go away. Made me feel like a real human bein' again."

If River was getting any of this, it wasn't with her conscious mind. Mal wondered for a moment if that's why Zoe was saying this now, when the girl wasn't talking or showing any awareness of her surroundings. He shoved the thought from his head. That wasn't Zoe, to take advantage and lie like that. Besides, the girl picked everything up; he knew it as well as anyone else on the crew. And words were what she put stock in anyways. They'd sink in, whether it looked like she noticed or not.

"Weren't your fault. Nobody's fault but the Alliance." Zoe had moved River off her lap and moved around to sit behind her. In the dim light, it almost looked like she was sectioning the girl's hair off and then twisting it back together. "Know that. Always known that. Just…comin' here. Brought all that old hurt up."

River was swaying again, and Zoe's fingers flew to get the braid done before the young woman fell over. Tying it off with one of the hair ties that had taken up permanent residence on her wrists ever since Sierra's hair had gotten long enough to snarl into rat's nests, the woman reached for the soup bowl again. "My man, he hated me goin' off ta get shot or worse. Knew he couldn't do much 'bout it though." She was spooning more soup into River now, and Mal wished he'd beat tracks the moment the door had opened. Best friend, oldest _living_ friend she may be, but this was too personal. Too close to home.

But she kept talking, and he was stuck. "Riddick though, he _could_ do somethin'. An' he did. An' I know it's killin' you." Zoe traced a thumb over one gaunt cheekbone. "Just gotta hold on River. Just gotta keep huntin'. Cause he may be a big _hwoon dahn_ murderer, Lord Marshal an' all. But he ain't nothin' on a girl who can find people ten solar systems away. Heard him before. You'll hear him again."

Mal wished he had her faith. Had her belief in the bond between the two. Hell, he wished he believed that River really _was_ lookin' for the man and hadn't just locked herself away in the land of Denial.

"'Cause the Cap'n may not believe." Busted. Zoe kept going though. "Simon either. But the kinda man who'll do what he's done, for the sake of someone he loves, he ain't gonna just roll over an' give up." Another swipe with the rag to catch any dribbles and Zoe stood, soup bowl in hand. Leaning over, she pressed a kiss to the girl's forehead. "So neither do you, ya hear me River? Neither do you."

Having said her piece, she turned, gave Mal a flat look that told him everything he needed to know about keeping his mouth shut or paying the consequences, and slipped back out of the room.

He waited a few minutes to make sure she was really gone. It was beneath his Captainly dignity after all, to get caught sneaking over to his Read nee adoptive daughter and squeezing her for all she was worth, evil looking blade an all. Zoe could pull stuff off like that with dignity. He'd always been lacking in that area.

River didn't so much as twitch at his train of thought, even though he'd been staring at her while he thought it as hard as he could. _Cao_. Maybe she really was too far gone. The idea teetered on the edge of the pit in his stomach, the one that had been growing steadily bigger ever since he stepped in this room and realized that his girl's big murderer had vanished. Maybe there was something in what the man had said, about seeing the truth of her. Because for as many fits as she'd had in the years since she'd first come aboard _Serenity_, none of them had held a candle to this one, either for duration or intensity. It was eerie in the lack of screamin' and wavin' about of things. Like she'd turned everything inward and the slammed the door on the world.

The pit yawned bigger.

Grumbling and muttering to himself about gorram Readers and gorram little girls who went and wormed their way into his affections when he knew it was much safer to have never let them stay on his ship, Malcolm Reynolds levered himself out of the chair he'd had his _pi gu_ parked in for the better part of the day and wobbled over to the bed on legs full of pins and needles. River was still staring, braid draped over one bare shoulder and her fingers tracing the edges of the ulak where it lay in her lap. Her lips were moving, though there was no sound that passed them, and she swayed in time with a heartbeat he wasn't sure was hers. On closer inspection, he saw that the tiny nicks and slices on her fingertips were reopening, a tiny crisscross hatch work that made clear just how sharp the blade she clung to was.

Mal drug his hands through his hair and rubbed them over his face. What to say? What to do? What to think? What could one jaded and hardened man say to a young woman so far gone that she didn't even feel the pain she was inflicting on herself? That she, who'd worked so hard and gone through so much, had become something more than the broken puppet her brother had dragged out of that lab? Gepetto hadn't been nearly finished with his creation and yet it was so much better that she had become something like a real girl than the creature they'd tried to turn her into.

And now this. Broken again. Betrayed by a man she'd put all her faith in. All of the arguments. All of the yelling and sniping and furious looks in the world couldn't convince him that what Riddick had done was for the best. Not that he would have let her go either. He would have hogtied her first. Dumped her in _Serenity_ and made for the Rim. Found himself a hole to hide in and never come out. Anything, before he let her go back to the people who'd started carvin' on her brain. Anythin', before he let her walk back to the monsters who tried to make people better and ended up with things like the Reavers.

River twitched, a mewl working its way past her lips as she curled in on herself and clutched the ulak closer. Blood ran down her arms and stained her dress as its edges sliced through her skin. But she didn't seem to notice. She was panting now, and Mal cursed himself for his train of thought. Stupid piece of _s__hi-niou_. How could he have been so dumb as to think all that with her right there?

She mewled again, and shuddered, and if he didn't know better he'd say it was fear on her face. Fear and horror and a look her knew all too well. Hadn't seen it since the war, but he knew it. It was the look some of the men had gotten when they realized they were going to die. That this was it. The end. There was heavy artillery fallin' and it was about to land smack on their heads. Nowhere to go. No place to escape to.

_Tian xiz shou you de ren dou gai si__!_ Now what? What had he done?

Carefully as he could, Mal sat on the edge of the bed and took her by the shoulders. "River? C'mon girl. What's wrong?"

She wasn't seeing him. She was staring at something past his shoulder. "No, no, no, no," coming out of her mouth with every panting breath.

"River? _Ai ya_ girl, talk ta me."

She shrieked, horror and denial filling the air. The last thing he knew was that his reflexes had gone to hell, or she was too fast to be dodged. The ulak was a gleaming silver streak in the air. Pain tore across his chest, the side of his face exploded in agony, and then the blackness claimed him.

**Author's Note: ** Well. A few more answers. Maybe some more questions. Zoe's getting herself lined out again, and Mal does some deep thinking. I really meant to have more of this story in Mal's POV, but the man's a stubborn ass and Inara is lots of fun. Fairly cooperative too. But I figured it was time we got to see inside our favorite Captain's head, so here it is. Sorry. Not telling who the girl from the last chapter was. Not yet at least.

As always, they're not mine. Wish it were otherwise, but no. /sadface

Thanks all who read, review, fav and follow. Love you so!

Shenandoah76209: Yeah. And what a storm it will be. Batten down the hatches, this is going to get MUCH worse before it gets better. If it does get better. I certainly hope so. As for Riddick, I'm sure he's having a MERRY old time, wherever he is. Christmas and rainbows and pots of gold, all at once. /nod Yup!

Rachet: You're welcome! Here's another one. And you'll have to keep reading to find out ;)

: Oh good. You're supposed to. I wouldn't be doing my job if you weren't feeling invested in the characters!

Translations

_ta ma de_-mother fucking

_hwoon dahn_-bastard

_Cao_-fuck

_pi gu_-ass

Shi-niou-shit urine

_Tian xiz shou you de ren dou gai si!-_ Fuck everyone in the universe to death

_Ai ya_-Damn


End file.
